The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

by Terry Brooks

  He shook his head. “They want something from us. If they didn’t, they would have taken a different approach. Besides, if we don’t go to Paranor, we lose our best chance of finding out what is really going on.”

  She brushed back loose strands of her long red hair and looked off into the distance. “I could make him tell us everything in about ten minutes if you left me alone with him.”

  Bek smiled in spite of himself. “He’s a Druid, Rue. He’s too powerful to play games with. Anyway, if we scare him, he won’t be so eager to tell us anything. Even when he lies, he gives us small glimpses of the truth. Let’s make use of that for now. We can skin him and hang him out to dry later.”

  She reached over and took his hand. “I want Penderrin safe, Bek. If this involves your sister, it probably involves her enemies, and her enemies are too dangerous for a boy to deal with.” She glanced over at the Druid airship. “I hate it that we’ve become involved in her life again.”

  He straightened and took her in his arms. She let him do so, but her body remained stiff and angry as he held her. “Don’t be too quick to blame this on Grianne,” he whispered. “We don’t know anything for sure yet. We don’t even know that Pen is missing. All we know is what we’ve been told, and we can’t really trust that.”

  She nodded and inclined her head into his shoulder. “What if he’s telling the truth? We can’t dismiss that possibility, either. Just because he hasn’t told his story well doesn’t mean it isn’t true. We can’t take chances with Pen’s safety.”

  He pressed her against him reassuringly. “Nothing will happen to Pen. Remember who raised him. He isn’t without resources or skills. If he’s disappeared, it may be because he wants it that way. What we need to do is to discover the reason. But we have to go to Paranor to do that. Are you willing to take the chance?”

  She backed out of his embrace, and he saw the familiar resolve reflected in her green eyes. “What do you think?”

  SIX

  Shadea a’Ru walked alone down the lower west corridor of the Druid’s Keep, listening beyond the soft scrape of her footfalls for other sounds. The air was warm and stultifying outside the walls of the Keep, but cool and resonant inside. A barely audible whisper of faraway voices reverberated off the stone walls like motes of dust dancing in the light.

  She listened to those voices carefully, but only to make certain they did not follow her.

  They would be serving the noon meal now, and a period of rest would follow for those who cared to take advantage of it. Few would. The Druids she led knew there were consequences for any failure to complete their work. She kept them guessing as to what those consequences might be or when to expect them. She let them work without supervision or deadlines because her unpredictability was all the incentive they required. A little uncertainty and a few object lessons were strong motivators.

  She did not visit acts of reprisal on those who disappointed her; she knew better than to do that. She did not use her office to punish outright. She had learned a long time ago that consequences must be administered in more subtle ways. A few well-chosen examples set the tone. She provided them early on, within days after gaining the position of Ard Rhys, a clear indication of her expectations. She chose two younger Druids, ones lacking in broad support, ones whose presence would not be missed. She called them into her office and simply dismissed them. She sent them home without offering them even the smallest clue as to how or why they had failed. They might apply for reinstatement, she advised, once they had determined the nature of their shortcomings. It was a fair and just approach to the strict demands of the order’s disciplines, and no one could find fault with how she had handled things.

  Yet the underlying message was unmistakable. If one failed, whether one understood how or why—one paid the price. The best way to avoid such consequences was to work hard and not make trouble.

  Of course, the more powerful of the Druids were not so easily intimidated. Their dismissal would result in confrontations of the sort she was trying to avoid. Yet she was determined that they all be brought into line, that they be made to accept her leadership and her control. She did not require that they make a public display of their loyalty; she needed only to know it was understood that she was Ard Rhys in more than name.

  Hence, this clandestine meeting with the most powerful of those whose support she required. If Gerand Cera would agree to back her openly, if she could gain his support for her efforts, then the rest would be easier to persuade. The problem was that Cera hated her almost as much as he had hated Grianne Ohmsford. If she was to have any success in gaining his support, she must first find a way to change his feelings.

  She paused at the entry to a rotunda that served as a hub for a series of connecting corridors. Light from narrow slits cut high up in the circular walls reflected off the stone blocks, measuring sticks for the single stairway that led upward to the west watchtower and its parapets. She had chosen this remote and private spot to test Cera’s resolve. If he feared to meet her there, alone and unprotected by his followers, he was not the ally she needed. If he appeared, it would reinforce her belief that he would serve the purpose she had set for him.

  She needed a fresh ally. Terek Molt was dead, Iridia Eleri had abandoned Paranor, and Traunt Rowan and Pyson Wence were beginning to show signs of vacillation. Though the latter two did her bidding, they failed to command the respect and fear of the Dwarf and the sorceress. She was incensed about Iridia, who had simply disappeared after the death of her beloved Ahren Elessedil, but there was nothing Shadea could do about it. Searching for Iridia would consume time and resources. Worse, it would demonstrate weakness. Better to deal with her later.

  She thought fleetingly of Traunt Rowan, who should by then have been deep in the Eastland and close to making contact with Bek Ohmsford and his wife. If he succeeded in bringing them to Paranor, she would have new leverage in her search for the boy and his companions should the unthinkable happen and Aphasia Wye fail. She would also have a means for reconfirming that Grianne Ohmsford was safely imprisoned within the Forbidding, where she could cause no further harm. The brother’s magic could be put to that use. It was dangerous to use him that way, but it was a risk she felt she had to take. When she was done with him, when she had hunted down the boy and verified that his aunt was dead and gone, it would be easy enough to dispose of the entire Ohmsford family.

  But first things first. She must concentrate on the task at hand, the manipulation of Gerand Cera. She glanced around the rotunda, their appointed meeting place. There was no sign of him.

  “I am here, Shadea,” he said from the shadows behind her.

  She turned with a start. Tall and menacing in his black robes, he was standing just inside the same hallway she had come down. He must have followed her all the way to their meeting place, and she had not heard him do so. It was a clear demonstration of his skill, given so that she would not mistake his coming as an indication of weakness. It was typical of him; he had survived over the years by making certain no one ever misjudged what he was capable of doing.

  “Gerand Cera,” she greeted him, holding her ground.

  He came up to her, lean and hatchet-faced, his nose and cheekbones narrow and chiseled, his mouth a thin line of disapproval. His expression was unreadable, as if his mind had emptied of thought and his heart of emotion. He was a formidable opponent, and there were few at Paranor who would dare to challenge him.

  “Are we alone?” he asked.

  He would already know the answer to that question, she thought. He only wanted to let her think he trusted her not to lie to him. “Of course. What I have to say to you is not meant for other ears.”

  “I didn’t think so.” He glanced around, as if come for the first time to a new place. “No one is likely to pass down these corridors, I suspect. Nevertheless, we are too much exposed to suit my taste. We should not be seen meeting like this, even by accident.”

  She nodded. “Come this way.”

&nb
sp; She led him into another of the passageways and from there into an unmanned guardroom fronting the outer wall.

  “Here?” she asked. He nodded, and she closed the door behind them. “This should serve our needs.”

  He walked over to a bench set against the far wall and sat down. “Let me save you some time and effort, Shadea. You have summoned me because you require my help. Your own allies seem to be disappearing rather more rapidly than I think you anticipated in the wake of what’s happened. Some won’t be returning, I suspect. You are Ard Rhys in name, but your grip on the title is tenuous. Allies are necessary. I would be the one whose support you covet most. Am I right?”

  She was angered by his presumptions, but kept her feelings in check. He was right, of course. That was one of his strengths—the ability to analyze a situation quickly and accurately. “Your support would be welcome,” she acknowledged.

  His sharp features tightened. “Why should I give it to you?”

  “I could suggest the obvious—that it would be safer for you to have me as a friend than an enemy.”

  His smile was bitter. “You could never be a friend to me, Shadea. You could never be a friend to anyone you viewed as a potential rival. I accept that. I don’t want you as a friend, in any case. As well, I don’t want you as an enemy. Your successful elimination of Grianne Ohmsford demonstrates sufficient reason for that. Such an impressive piece of work. So unexpected. No one knows how you did it. Gone almost as if she never existed. Care to explain how you managed it?”

  She shrugged. “As you said, you don’t want me as your enemy.”

  “So, then, I can have you as neither friend nor enemy. Perhaps there is some middle ground?”

  “Perhaps. Why don’t we try to find it?” She walked over and sat down beside him, taking away the advantage of height to put them on an equal footing. “I do have need of your help. You have read the situation accurately. I have lost old allies; I need new ones. The Council follows me for now, but it may shift allegiance when the opportunity arises. I can do nothing to further the Druid cause until the problem is safely eliminated. Think what you want of me, but my goal in all of this is to make the order stronger and more effective. Under Grianne, we were wallowing in discontent and ineffectiveness. That has changed already, even in the few days she has been gone.”

  Gerand Cera arched one eyebrow. “How so?”

  “I have gained the unqualified support of Sen Dunsidan and the Federation. That support goes beyond his openly professed acceptance of my stewardship of the order. A deeper understanding has been forged, one that will eventually give us control over him.”

  He nodded slowly. “He will crush the Free-born, and you will have the order stand by and let it happen. But how will you then gain control of him?”

  She smiled. “What you need to know is that I do not intend to let things proceed in the disorderly fashion allowed by my predecessor. I intend to take action and to take it now. I will change the course of history, and I will make the Druid order the spearhead for that change.”

  “How ambitious of you,” he said softly.

  “I won’t deny it. I am ambitious for both the order and myself. You can join me in this effort or you can continue to oppose me. If you join me, I will give you fresh standing in the order, a chance to advance at my side, equal in almost everything.”

  He laughed. “Until you no longer have need of me.”

  She held his gaze. “Or you of me?”

  They stared at each other in silent appraisal, each measuring the other’s hidden intent against the possibility of truth contained in the words already spoken. The silence lengthened and Shadea caught a hint of uncertainty in the other’s black gaze.

  “An alliance, then?” he said.

  “A very close alliance. Personal as well as professional.”

  He stared at her. “You don’t mean for us to become joined in that way, do you?” he asked softly.

  She nodded slowly. “Oh, but I do. Why not? Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind. It crosses every man’s mind, sooner or later. I see how they look at me. I know how they think. I am offering myself to you. I understand the risk of doing so, of course. But there are always risks. What I seek is an open and obvious alliance that no one in the order will dare to challenge.”

  “Well,” he said, pursing his thin lips. “I didn’t expect this. Do you find me so attractive?”

  She shrugged. “Not in the way you might think. Attractive in a different way. Women and men don’t always think alike about these things. Accept my offer, and I might even explain it to you one day.”

  He stared at her without answering, looking directly into her eyes and searching for what she was hiding. She let him hold her gaze, patient and unflinching. “You could move into my quarters, of course,” she said. “You could sleep with me or not, as you choose. What matters is that others see us as a couple. We would be seen as joined in all things, not necessarily by proclamation, but otherwise openly so. I am Ard Rhys, but you would be my shadow half. Your word would be mine. We would advance the cause of the order together.”

  He let his eyes drop to her body, then rose and walked away and stood looking at the wall. “I will not say I am not tempted. You understand me well enough to know I am. We both crave power in all its forms. Your submission would be immensely satisfying. But where does this lead? How does it end?”

  She laughed openly. “Do you need to know in order to be persuaded, Gerand Cera? Aren’t you excited by the idea that neither of us can know how this will end, that it is a gamble we must accept? Life is risk! What is the point otherwise?”

  He turned back to face her. “What of your other allies? How will they view this change of plans?”

  She shrugged. “They will accept it. They haven’t any choice. I am the one they answer to.” She reached up to touch his cheek. “And now to you, as well, if you accept my offer.”

  He shook his head. “You would dispose of me in an instant, discard me with not a second thought.”

  “You would do the same with me,” she countered. “We do not fool each other in any way about this arrangement. We make use of it until it no longer suits us, and then we see how things stand. It does not necessarily have to end in killing. It can end in any number of other ways. Are you so committed to my death that you cannot imagine any other possibility? Do I appear no different to you than Grianne Ohmsford did?”

  He smiled. “You are different in more ways than I can count. I do not mistake you for her. But I do not mistake you for anything different from what you are, either. I would have to watch my back constantly were I to accept your proposal.”

  She put her hands on his narrow shoulders and drew him a step closer. “Oh, come now. What would be the purpose of making this offer if all I wanted was to see you dead? There are much less complicated ways to achieve that end. Once I have joined with you openly, it immediately becomes more difficult for me to dispose of you, doesn’t it? Besides, what would be the reason? I need you alive and at my side if I am to achieve what I seek. You can see that, can’t you?”

  His lean features showed nothing, impassive and unrevealing as she pressed herself close and kissed him on the mouth. “Can’t you?”

  Then he was kissing her back, and she knew she had him.

  Later that night, when the Druids of Paranor were asleep or at work in quarters kept open for that purpose, the night fallen in a thick black veil through skies so clouded that neither moon nor stars could penetrate, she slipped from her bed to walk the empty corridors and think. She spared only a single glance back at the sleeping and sated Gerand Cera before closing the door on him. Her seduction of her most dangerous enemy had been a success. It had even been enjoyable. She had not lied to him. She found him attractive enough. His menacing look and poisonous mind drew her much the way she thought the Ilse Witch must have felt drawn to snakes. They were treacherous by instinct and unpredictable by nature and one could not trust what they would do because they
frequently did not know themselves. But they were fascinating, as well. She flushed with heat and passion imagining how it would feel to hold one close to her breast and feel its deceptively silky skin sliding against her own.

  She slipped down the empty corridor outside her room, hugging the shadows as she moved to the stairwell that led upward into the central tower and the parapets that ringed it. She wore her nightgown and nothing more, disdainful of clothing, of armor and weapons, of trappings that hampered and slowed. She feared nothing in this world, so why should she care how she appeared or what she revealed? Convention and conformity were for others. She would be what she liked.

  For now, Gerand Cera was hers. She knew he thought otherwise. He had taken her body and would think he had taken her mind in the bargain. He had allied himself with her so that he could gain a toehold on the steps of the office she warded. He was probably already planning how he would dispose of her. But she had known all that going in, had understood that he would accept her proposition only to get what he coveted most—the position she held. He would stay close to her so that he could more easily eliminate her.

  But that was a blade that cut both ways. Keeping him close allowed her the same opportunities. His plans for her were no different than hers for him. Yet the bargain favored her. She was the one who would be seen to have united the Druids, to have pulled the two central factions together, so that there would no longer be bickering and dissatisfaction. She was the one who would be seen to have allowed common sense to prevail over pride. She was the one who would be seen as the real leader of the order, and Gerand Cera, though he might claim otherwise, would be only the consort of the Ard Rhys.

  A consort, she had already decided, whose usefulness at Paranor would quickly run its course.

  She climbed to the tower and walked out onto the parapet. A wind blew chilly and brisk out of the west, but anxious to feel something cold against her skin, she let it wash over her without shivering. She closed her eyes and breathed in the night, listening to its faint sounds, to its soft voice. She was at peace there, alone on the top of the Druid’s Keep, her fortress, her world. She had won it, and she would keep it. Those who could help her might do so, but they had better know their place.