by Terry Brooks
It was an unpleasant conclusion, but an inescapable one.
When morning came, with dawn a misty gray light and a harsh cold wind blowing out of the north suggesting the firm possibility of further snow on the horizon, he set out anew. He flew from the Westland into the Tirfing, the grasslands still green and fresh below him but the air bitter with heavy clouds rolling in, and then he continued through the remainder of the day to the Borderlands before turning south.
By nightfall, he had reached the city of Wayford and landed his vessel at the public airfield. As he climbed out of the pilot box he found himself searching for Grehling Cara, but a man he didn’t know was taking the night watch this evening. It was just as well, Paxon told himself as he gave his Sprint over to the other’s care. He still wasn’t sure about what he was doing, and he didn’t want to have to talk about it with anyone.
He walked off the airfield and into the city proper. It was early still, the taverns and eating establishments doing a brisk business and the pleasure houses just opening their doors. People moved in knots through the crowded streets, maneuvering for position as carts, carriages, and riders on horses all pushed their way through to wherever they were going. Laughter and shouts rang out from every quarter, and there was an air of joyful expectation in their sounds.
Paxon took it all in, but kept his purpose fixed and his pace steady as he passed on. Eventually, he moved into a district of shops and food stalls, and then he was on the street he had come to find. Everything was very quiet and still; there were few people, and the windows of the shops were dark and shuttered. As he walked up the street, his pace slowed. He was preparing himself for what he would find, for how he would be received. He had hopes, but no expectations. Expectations now would only make his disappointment sharper. He knew how things might have gone. He understood that time and chance both might have passed him by.
When he reached her door, he hesitated. He stood there for several minutes, trying to decide whether to turn around and walk away. It was still possible to do so. It might be better, in fact. In spite of what he had come to do, in spite of the distance he had traveled to do it, it might be the wiser choice.
He lifted his hand to the iron knocker and then dropped it, filled with indecision.
What am I doing?
Then, abruptly, the door opened, and Leofur Rai stood there looking at him.
He waited for her to say something, but she just stared, arms folded across her breasts. She looked the same—brilliant green eyes, honey-colored hair with silver streaks, intense no-nonsense gaze.
“I…couldn’t decide about this,” he said finally.
She faced him in silence, waiting.
He straightened. “I came here because I had to see you. I had to tell you how wrong I’ve been. I’m about as unhappy as I could possibly be, and I know it’s due in no small part to having stayed away from you. I should have come before now. I thought to do so countless times—more times than I care to think about—but the longer I waited, the harder it got and finally I couldn’t make myself do it.”
She still did not speak, but she nodded.
“Something bad happened. Something so terrible that it caused me to consider leaving the Druid order. It made me rethink everything. Maybe I should have done so sooner—I don’t know. I’ve been looking for answers, but I haven’t found them yet. I’ve been on a sort of identity quest. I know I’m not making sense; I can’t seem to find the words. The point is, it led me here. It opened my eyes. I know now I will never be happy without you. I will never be complete. I realize that. And I know it’s probably too late for us, but I had to come say it all anyway. I owed you that much. And I had to find out. About us. Because I’m hoping there’s still a chance we can be together.”
He paused, the pain of his emotions sharp in his chest. “Leofur, I love you. I think I always have. I know I always will.”
She watched him a moment longer. Then she unfolded her arms and reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Maybe you better come inside, Paxon,” she said, her face expressionless. “We might need a little time to work this out.”
His hopes came to life, the glow in his heart warm and bright as he stepped through her door.
For Anne Groell,
who keeps me honest in all the best ways
BY TERRY BROOKS
SHANNARA
SHANNARA
First King of Shannara
The Sword of Shannara
The Elfstones of Shannara
The Wishsong of Shannara
THE HERITAGE OF SHANNARA
The Scions of Shannara
The Druid of Shannara
The Elf Queen of Shannara
The Talismans of Shannara
THE VOYAGE OF THE JERLE SHANNARA
Ilse Witch
Antrax
Morgawr
HIGH DRUID OF SHANNARA
Jarka Ruus
Tanequil
Straken
THE DARK LEGACY OF SHANNARA
Wards of Faerie
Bloodfire Quest
Witch Wraith
THE DEFENDERS OF SHANNARA
The High Druid’s Blade
The Darkling Child
PRE-SHANNARA
GENESIS OF SHANNARA
Armageddon’s Children
The Elves of Cintra
The Gypsy Morph
LEGENDS OF SHANNARA
Bearers of the Black Staff
The Measure of the Magic
The World of Shannara
THE MAGIC KINGDOM OF LANDOVER
Magic Kingdom for Sale—Sold!
The Black Unicorn
Wizard at Large
The Tangle Box
Witches’ Brew
A Princess of Landover
THE WORD AND THE VOID
Running with the Demon
A Knight of the Word
Angel Fire East
Sometimes the Magic Works:
Lessons from a Writing Life
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TERRY BROOKS is the New York Times bestselling author of more than thirty books, including the Dark Legacy of Shannara adventures Wards of Faerie, Bloodfire Quest, and Witch Wraith; the Legends of Shannara novels Bearers of the Black Staff and The Measure of the Magic; the Genesis of Shannara trilogy: Armageddon’s Children, The Elves of Cintra, and The Gypsy Morph; The Sword of Shannara; the Voyage of the Jerle Shannara trilogy: Ilse Witch, Antrax, and Morgawr; the High Druid of Shannara trilogy: Jarka Ruus, Tanequil, and Straken; the nonfiction book Sometimes the Magic Works: Lessons from a Writing Life; and the novel based upon the screenplay and story by George Lucas, Star Wars®: Episode I The Phantom Menace.™ His novels Running with the Demon and A Knight of the Word were selected by the Rocky Mountain News as two of the best science fiction/fantasy novels of the twentieth century. The author was a practicing attorney for many years but now writes full-time. He lives with his wife, Judine, in the Pacific Northwest.
www.shannara.com
www.terrybrooks.net