First King of Shannara (14 page)

Tay shifted on the bench, wondering if he did. “I think he is very lucky to have you,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Tell me a little more about what you found at Paranor, anything you think might be of interest, anything you think I might want to know.”

She tucked her legs beneath her on the bench, as if to ward off the unpleasantness of the words she must speak, and did so.

 

When Preia left him, he remained sitting for a time trying to picture the faces of the Druids he would never see again. Strangely enough, his memory of some was already beginning to fade. It worked like that, he supposed, even with those that mattered most.

It was approaching evening, and he rose and walked along the edge of the Carolan and watched the sunset, the sky coloring gold and silver as the light faded toward darkness. He waited until torches began to brighten the city behind him, then turned and walked back toward his parents' home. He felt alienated, disconnected. Paranor's destruction and the death of the Druids had cut him loose from his moorings, leaving him adrift. All that remained for him was to fulfill Bremen's admonition to seek out the Black Elfstone, and he was determined to do that. Then he would start his life over again. He wondered if he could do that. He wondered where he would begin.

He was approaching his destination when a king's messenger stepped out of the shadows and advised him that he was to come at once. The urgency of the summons was apparent, so Tay did not argue. He turned from the pathway and followed the messenger back toward the Carolan and the palace that housed the king and his considerable family. Courtann Ballindarroch was the fifth of his line, and the size of the royal family had grown larger with each new coronation. Now the palace housed not only the king and queen, but five children and their spouses, more than a dozen grandchildren, and numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins. Among them was Jerle Shannara, although he spent most of his time at the Home Guard quarters, where he felt decidedly more comfortable.

The palace came in sight, a blaze of light against the darker backdrop of the Gardens of Life. But as they neared the front entry, the messenger took him left down a pathway that led to the summerhouse at one end of the compound. Tay glanced across the broad, dark sweep of the grounds, searching for the Home Guard that kept watch. He could sense them, could count their numbers if he chose by using his magic, but could see nothing. Inside the palace, framed against the lighted windows, shadows came and went like faceless wraiths. The messenger showed no interest, directing him past the main house to where Ballindarroch had chosen to receive him. Tay wondered at the abruptness of the summons. Had something new occurred? Had there been another tragedy? He forced himself not to speculate, but to wait for his answer.

The messenger took him directly to the front door of the summerhouse and told him to go inside. He entered alone, passed through the foyer to the living area beyond, and found Jerle Shannara waiting.

His friend shrugged and held up his hands helplessly. “I have no more idea than you. I was summoned, and here I am.”

“You told the king what we know?”

“I told him you needed an immediate audience with the High Council, that you had urgent news. Nothing more.”

They stared at each other, speculating on the matter. Then the front door opened, and Courtann Ballindarroch appeared. Tay wondered where he had come from—if he had walked down from the main house or had been listening outside the window in the gardens. Courtann was unpredictable. Physically, he was a man of average height and build, comfortably middle-aged, slightly stooped, graying a bit at the temples and along the edges of his beard, a series of deep creases beginning to show in his face and neck. There was nothing distinctive about Courtann; he looked very ordinary. He did not have an orator's voice or a leader's charm, and he was quick to admit confusion when beset by it. He had become king in the usual fashion, the eldest child of the previous king, and he neither sought power nor shied away from it. What he brought with him to his rule as leader of the Elves was a reputation of not being given to unexpected or outrageous behavior, of not being inclined to dramatic or precipitous change, so that he was accepted by his people in the manner of a favorite uncle.

“Welcome home, Tay,” he greeted. He was smiling and relaxed and did not seem at all distressed as he came up to the younger man and clasped his hand. “I thought we might discuss your news in private before you present it to the High Council.” He ran his hand through his thick shock of hair. “I prefer to keep surprises at a minimum in my life. And, should you need an ally, perhaps I might serve. No, don't look to your confidant—he hasn't said a word. Even if he had, I wouldn't listen to him. Too unreliable. Jerle is here only because I have never known either of you to keep secrets from the other, so there probably isn't much point in trying to start now.”

He beckoned. “Let's sit over here, in these padded chairs. My back has been bothering me. Grandchildren will do that to you. And let's not be formal. First names will do. We've all known each other too long for anything else.”

It was true, Tay thought, seating himself across from the king and next to Jerle. Courtann Ballindarroch was older by a good twenty years, but they had been friends for their entire lives. Jerle had always lived at court, and Tay had spent much of his time there and so had seen much of Courtann. When they were boys, Courtann had taken them fishing and hunting. Special events and feasts had often brought them together. Tay had been present when Courtann had been crowned some thirty years ago. Each of them knew what to expect from the other.

“I am afraid I was skeptical from the first that you had returned for no better reason than to visit us,” the king advised with a sigh. “You have always been much too directed to squander a visit home on social pleasures. I hope you don't take offense.” He rocked back. “So what news do you have for us? Come now, let's have it all.”

“There is a great deal to tell,” Tay replied, leaning forward to better hold the other's gaze. “Bremen sent me. He came to Paranor almost two weeks ago and tried to warn the Druid Council that they were in danger. He had gone into the Northland and confirmed the existence of the Warlock Lord. He had determined that it was the rebel Druid Brona, still alive after several hundred years, kept so by the magic that had subverted him. It was Brona who found a way to unite the Trolls and subjugate them so that they would serve as his army. Before traveling to Paranor, Bremen tracked that army south toward the Eastland.”

He paused to choose his words carefully. “The Druid Council would not listen. Athabasca sent Bremen away, and a handful of us went with him. Caerid Lock was asked to come as well, but declined. He stayed behind to protect Athabasca and the others against themselves.”

“A good man,” the king advised. “Very able.”

“With Bremen leading us, we went to the Valley of Shale. There, at the Hadeshorn, Bremen spoke with the spirits of the dead. I watched him do so. They told him several things. One was that Paranor and the Druids would be lost. Another was that the Warlock Lord would invade the Four Lands, and that a talisman must be constructed to destroy him. A third concerned the location of a Black Elfstone, a magic the Warlock Lord searches for, but that we must find first. When the spirits of the dead departed, Bremen sent the Druid Risca to warn the Dwarves of their danger. He sent me to warn you. I was instructed to persuade you to bring your army east across the Borderlands to join forces with the Dwarves. Only by combining our strength can we defeat the Warlock Lord's army. I was also instructed to request help in undertaking a search for the Black Elfstone.”

Ballindarroch was no longer smiling. “You are being very candid in relating all this,” the king advised, not bothering to hide his surprise. “I would have expected you to take a more subtle approach in seeking my help.”

Tay nodded. “That was my intention. And I would have done so if I were speaking to you before the High Council. But I am not. I am speaking to you alone. There are only the three of us present, and as you have pointed out we know each other well enough not to pretend at things.”

“There is a better reason than that,” Jerle interjected quickly. “Tell him, Tay.”

Tay folded his hands before him, but did not drop his gaze. “I have waited until now to speak to you because I wanted to confirm Bremen' s suspicions about Paranor and the Druids. I asked Jerle to send someone back to see what had happened, to make sure. He did so. He sent Preia Starle. She returned this afternoon and spoke to me. Paranor has indeed fallen. All the Druids and those who guarded them are dead. Caerid Lock is gone. Athabasca is gone. There is no one left—no one, Courtann, who possesses the power necessary to stand against Brona.”

Courtann Ballindarroch stared at him wordlessly, then rose, walked to the window, looked out into the night, walked back, and seated himself once more. “This is troubling news,” he said quietly. “When you told me of Bremen's vision, I thought it would turn out to be a trick, a subterfuge, something other than the truth. Anything. All the Druids dead, you say? So many of them our own people? But they have always been there, for as long as history records. And now they are gone? All of them? I can hardly believe it.”

“But they are gone,” Jerle declared, not willing to let the king dither over the matter. “Now we need to act quickly to prevent the same thing from happening to us.”

The Elf King rubbed his beard. “But not too quickly, Jerle. Let us think this through a moment. If I do as Bremen has asked and march the Elven army east, I leave Arborlon and the Westland undefended. That is a dangerous course of action. I know the history of the First War of the Races well enough to avoid its mistakes. Caution is necessary.”

“Caution suggests delay, and we don't have time for that!” Jerle snapped.

The king fixed him with an icy glare. “Do not press me, Cousin.”

Tay could not risk an argument between them at this point. “What do you suggest, Courtann,” he interjected quickly.

The king looked at him. He rose and walked to the window once more and stood with his back to them. Jerle glanced at Tay, but Tay did not acknowledge him. The matter was now between himself and the king. He waited for Courtann to turn back again, to cross the room and seat himself once more.

“I am convinced by everything you have told me, Tay, so do not look upon my response as a contradiction. I have great faith in Bremen's word. If he says that the Warlock Lord lives and is the rebel Druid Brona, then it must be so. If he says that the land's magic is being pressed into evil's service, then it must be true. But I am a student of history, and I know that Brona was never a fool, and we must not assume that he will do what we expect. He surely knows that Bremen, if still alive, must try to stop him. He has eyes and ears everywhere. He may know what we intend, even before we intend it. We must make sure of what is needed before we act.”

There was a moment's silence as his listeners absorbed his words. “What will you do then?” Tay asked finally.

Courtann smiled his fatherly smile. “Go with you before the High Council and give you my support, of course. The Council must be made to see the necessity of acting on your news. It should not be hard. The loss of Paranor and the Druids will be enough to persuade them, I think. Your request to go in search of the Black Elfstone will be approved at once, I expect. There is no reason to delay action on that. Of course your shadow, my cousin, will insist on going with you, and as you might suspect, I would prefer that he did.”

He rose, and they stood up with him. “As for your second request, that our army march to the aid of the Dwarves, I must consider that a while longer. I will dispatch scouts to see what we can determine of the Warlock Lord's presence in the Four Lands. When they report back, and after I have thought this matter through and the High Council has had time to debate it, a decision will be made.”

He paused, waiting for Tay's response. “I am grateful, my lord,” Tay acknowledged quickly. In truth, it was more than he had expected.

“Then show it by making a strong argument to the Council.” The king put his hand on Tay's shoulder. “They wait for us now in the Assembly. They will want to know that the time they gave up with their families this evening was in a good cause.” He glanced at Jerle. “Cousin, you may come with us if you think you can manage to hold your tongue. Your voice is well respected in these matters, and we may require your insight. Agreed?”

Jerle nodded that it was. They went out of the summerhouse into the night and walked down to the Assembly. Members of the Home Guard materialized out of nowhere, front and back, dark shadows against the distant torchlight of the palace. The king didn't seem to notice them, humming softly as he walked, glancing at the stars with mild fascination, Tay was surprised, but pleased that the king had acted as quickly as he had. He breathed the night air, taking in the fragrance of jasmine and lilac, and gathered his thoughts for what lay ahead. He was already planning the trip west, thinking through what they would need, which routes they would choose, how they would proceed. How many should they be? A dozen should be sufficient. Enough to stay safe, but not so many as to draw attention. He was conscious of Jerle at his elbow, a large, impassive presence, lost in his own thoughts. It felt good to have him there, steady and reliable. It brought back memories of what had once been, when they were boys. There was always an adventure waiting to be undertaken then, a new cause to consider, a different challenge to be met. He had missed that, he guessed. It felt good having it back again. For the first time since his return, he thought he might be home.

He spoke that night before the High Council with a conviction and persuasiveness that surpassed anything of which he believed himself capable. All that Bremen had asked of him he accomplished. But it was Bremen himself, even absent, who made the difference. The old man was liked and respected in Arborlon, and during his time there he had won many friends with his work on the recovery of Elven history and magic. If he sought the help of the Elves, especially given the destruction of Paranor and the Druids, the Council would see that he got it. Permission was granted to mount a search for the Black Elfstone. A company would be formed under the joint leadership of Tay Trefenwyd and Jerle Shannara. Swift consideration was promised on the request for aid to the Dwarves. Support was strong and enthusiastic— more so than Courtann Ballindarroch had anticipated. The king, seeing the effect that Tay's words were having on the members of the Council, added his support as well, careful to stress that there were still questions to be resolved before aid could be sent to the Dwarves.