The Dark Legacy of Shannara Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Terry Brooks

  “So it’s yours, after all. You see?” He smiled at Aphen. “Your claim is suspect. But if you want it back—orb, stone, seed, whatever—I’m willing to negotiate. Pay me four times what I gave up. Wait, five times. Then you can have it.”

  Aphen stepped forward, eyes fixed on the man. “Take out the pouch and set it on the table. Do it right now.”

  The man shook his head. “I don’t take orders from anyone. Especially Elves. I don’t care who you are or what sort of tricks you can do. A word from me, and you and your friends will be cut to—”

  He never finished. Aphen’s fingers made a curious twisting motion, and the man’s words choked in his throat as he was lifted out of his chair by invisible hands and hauled across the tabletop. He thrashed momentarily, but could gain no purchase, and his efforts at calling for help failed. The men with him backed against the wall, then broke and fled toward the doors. Cymrian moved quickly to the second man seated across from Sora and put him down with a single blow to the temple. Sora tried to run yet again, but he was hemmed in on all sides by the Elves.

  Shouts rose from the other patrons, but Arling wheeled on them and screamed at them to be silent. The force of her words was enough. The room went absolutely still.

  Aphen flipped the man she had ensnared with her magic onto his back without touching him, her wrist twisting slightly to complete the task. Then she reached inside his robes as he flopped and thrashed like a fish out of water and took back the pouch with the Ellcrys seed.

  She leaned close. “I ought to kill you and be done with it. You deserve no better. But men like you should live out their lives until the misery they cause to others comes back to find them—as it surely will in your case.”

  She cast him away as if he weighed nothing. He flew off the table and onto the floor, collapsing in a motionless heap.

  Aphen and Arling were already moving toward the tavern door. Cymrian was a step behind, hauling Sora along by his collar, shoving him forward. A few angry mutterings rose from the tavern patrons, but no one tried to stop them.

  Moments later they were outside, trudging down the road toward the end of the village. Rain sheeted down, soaking them through. No one spoke. Cymrian released his grip on Sora, but the latter made no attempt at running away again. He simply kept pace as if this were the only choice open to him.

  “I’m finished here, you know that?” he said to Aphen without looking at her. “Finished and done. I can’t go back. Not to those men. They’ll blame me for this.”

  “You should have thought of that before you stole the seed,” she snapped at him.

  He went silent for a moment. “Aquinel didn’t have anything to do with this, you know. It was all me. I took it when she wasn’t looking. I just wanted to sell it and give her something nice, something more than what I’ve been able to for all these years she’s stuck with me.” He trailed off. “You just need to know. It wasn’t her fault. She’s a good woman.”

  Aphen wheeled on him and shoved him up against the side of a building. “Then take her and leave. Now. Pack a few things and go before they come for you. It will take them a day or so to muster the courage. Go somewhere far away, but get out of here!”

  She reached in her cloak, brought out a handful of coins, and shoved them into his pocket. “Take these. Consider the matter of the seed settled. But don’t forget what happened here. Don’t try stealing from anyone again.”

  She pulled him away from the wall and pointed him down the road toward his cottage. “She’s waiting. Look after her.”

  She stood watching as he stumbled down the road and disappeared into the rain. She wondered if he would do what she had told him. She wondered if he would heed her advice about stealing.

  She wondered if there was any hope for these people.

  Then she grabbed Arling’s arm and, with Cymrian trailing, started back down the road toward the waiting Sprint.

  22

  Seersha and Crace Coram flew their two-man north through the remainder of the day, making sure they kept well east of the Straken Lord’s army. Neither Dwarf had ever seen an army of this size, so massive and sprawling that it seemed to have no beginning or end, blanketing the countryside for as far as the eye could see. It let them better understand why the Federation army in Arishaig had been unable to defend the city. The Elves would be no more successful in trying to defend Arborlon.

  “An evacuation is the only answer against a force of this size,” the Dwarf Chieftain insisted within minutes of surveying the onslaught below them.

  “The Elves won’t give up Arborlon,” Seersha replied at once. “They won’t leave their home city. They won’t abandon the Ellcrys. They will stand and fight.”

  “Which is madness,” her companion hissed in dismay.

  “Maybe. But that’s the way of it. And it’s why I am setting you down outside Tyrsis as soon as we sight her. I need you to get word to the Border Legion. Let them know what’s happened, if they don’t know already. Tell them the Elves will need their support. Then fly on to the Dwarves and bring them, as well. Use the flatbeds for transport—as many as you can manage. No arguments from the other Chieftains. There’s no time for it.” She paused. “Can you do it, old dog?”

  He scowled at her. “The ‘old dog’ will need three days to get reinforcements to Arborlon. Can you give me that?”

  She grinned and nodded, and suddenly they were laughing. It was insanity, all of it hopeless, and there was nothing for it but to stare it down and laugh in its face. You did what you had to in a situation like this one. You did what your heart and your sense of right and wrong told you was needed.

  They flew past the ocean of creatures serving the Straken Lord and continued north. It was close to midnight when she dropped him just west of the city of Tyrsis, the fortress settled high on the massive plateau overlooking the grasslands of the Streleheim. He would make the gates well before sunrise and do what he must to try to help her. She, in the meantime, would snatch a few precious hours of sleep, then go to the Elves and see if she could manage to open their eyes. Or, more particularly, the eyes of Phaedon Elessedil, who would most probably want her clapped in irons and locked away the moment he saw her.

  But she was a Druid first and always, and a warrior to boot—a planner and a tactician. She would not give him the chance to do what he would like. She would find a way to turn his rage and obstinacy against him.

  The hours were long and the tension high as she steered a course safely beyond the demonkind while keeping a sharp eye out for Elven craft, as well. But she reached the Valley of Rhenn by midafternoon and sailed through the shadow of its cliff-walled gap, giving a wave to the sentries—a sign of friendship that she hoped would be enough to keep them from trying to stop or engage her. Her hopes were realized when no aircraft moved to intercept her and no challenge was issued to stop her passing.

  She moved on quickly from there to the outskirts of Arborlon, choosing to land at the Elven airfield where she believed she might be lucky enough to find a friendly face. In fact, she found several. A handful of the Elven Home Guards she had been training with were working on a skiff nearby when she landed and wandered over to see what had brought her back.

  “I thought you might be missing me,” she answered with a laugh. “Any warrants or postings out on me?”

  She said it jokingly, tossing it off, watching them carefully for signs of uneasiness, but the Elves just shrugged.

  “Who would bother with something like that?” one asked.

  “Well, your new King wasn’t exactly friendly toward me when we parted,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t spend my time worrying about that,” said another, pulling a face. “Our new King is too busy trying to find his backside with both hands to be bothered with the likes of Dwarves or Druids!”

  “Unless he thought Dwarves might do a better job of finding it than he could, them being smaller in stature and all,” said another.

  They all howled with glee, and she l
et them do so. No point in making this into something it clearly wasn’t. She laughed as if sharing the joke, and then casually asked, “Do you know where I can find Sian Aresh?”

  They did better than that. One of them offered to find the Captain of the Home Guard and bring him to her. She almost agreed, but then decided it would be better if she found him herself. Sending word risked having Phaedon learn she was back in Arborlon, and she wasn’t ready for that to happen just yet. So she excused herself amid a final barrage of insults and jokes and set off for the Home Guard barracks where she was told Aresh could be found.

  She took the trouble to procure and don one of the green cloaks of the Home Guard, leaving her own distinctive black one behind. The less attention she drew to herself, the better. She was putting herself in enough danger as it was, even though it seemed no one was looking for her at this point. Perhaps it was enough that she had fled with Crace Coram, removing herself from the city and the Elven population. Even Phaedon couldn’t seriously believe she had anything to do with the old King’s death. Mostly, she imagined, he simply wanted the Druids out of the way while he went about the business of establishing himself as King.

  She knew her way around the Home Guard barracks well enough by now to come into the building through the rear entry and make her way to Sian Aresh’s office without being stopped. She stood just outside his door and listened to him speaking with another Elven Hunter, waited until the latter departed, and then stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

  “Seersha,” he said, looking up, clearly startled. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Probably,” she answered. “Is the King still hunting for me?”

  “The King has forgotten all about you. Is it your intention to remind him? What are you doing here?”

  Quickly, she told him. The demon army had breached the walls of Arishaig, and the city was lost. The Federation army stationed there was broken and mostly destroyed, the population driven out, and the buildings in ruins. Now the attacking army—hundreds of thousands strong—was coming for Arborlon and the Elves, and seemingly without stopping for sleep. It marched north at a pace that would bring it to the mouth of the Valley of Rhenn in two more days.

  “Do not rely on my word alone,” she finished. “Send scouts to witness for themselves what I have just told you about the size of this threat. The Elves are in grave danger, Sian. The King must act.”

  He was on his feet. “The King will do what he wishes. That much has been made plain enough already. Even the presence of a demon army doesn’t guarantee that he will do as he should. He lacks his father’s good sense. He lacks …” He shook his head, as if unwilling to spend the time making a list. “Wait here while I dispatch the airships and men needed to confirm your report.”

  He went out the door and left her standing at his desk. She moved over to a high-backed wooden chair and sat while she waited for him to return. She was weary from all the travel and so little sleep, but there was nothing she could do about it just yet. Too much needed to be done first. She sat there thinking on it, going over again the plan she had hatched while flying back.

  Aresh returned, closing the door once more and reseating himself. “We should have a report by tomorrow. Now, what of you?”

  She shrugged. “I came back because there was nowhere else for me to go. I need to be where the fighting is if I’m to serve any useful purpose. I thought Aphen might have need of me, as well, when she returns. It’s worth the risk.”

  “If you stay out of sight, the risk shouldn’t be great.”

  “I can’t do that. I want you to take me before the King and High Council. I want to speak to them about what’s happening and what they need to do. What they must do. I’ve sent word to both the Border Legion and the Dwarves. I am hoping they will respond and send reinforcements to the Elves before the demon army reaches you.”

  “Not enough time for that,” the other responded with a shrug. “Tomorrow morning? Even with airship transport, it will take them longer than that just to mobilize. But the bigger problem is the King. He doesn’t want help from any quarter. I’ve already spoken to him about the danger of an attack. He ignores it. He believes the assault to be directed toward the Federation alone. He uses his time to consolidate his position; he worries that like his father he, too, might be assassinated. He sees enemies everywhere. He has rescinded Emperowen’s order to mobilize and go to the aid of the Federation. He has decided to hunker down and wait this business out.” The Elven captain shook his head.

  “Why is he doing this?” Seersha asked in dismay. “How can he think the Elves are safe from what’s happening? In any case, it points up the need for my report to the High Council. Perhaps they will find the backbone to act in spite of the King.”

  Aresh shook his head. “The King is not himself, and he was not working with much even before he ascended to the throne. He is distracted, and his decisions feel arbitrary. I have managed to mobilize the Home Guard and the Elven army under the pretext of securing Arborlon, but I have no orders to take any part of it out of the city. We sit on our hands, waiting on the King.”

  “Even knowing that the Ellcrys fails and the walls of the Forbidding are falling? Even knowing what Aphenglow and Arling have set out to do? Doesn’t anyone see what lies ahead if they fail?”

  The Captain of the Home Guard leaned back in his chair. “No one can quite believe the old King is dead. So they see Phaedon as an anchor, a fixed point with which they are familiar and to which they can turn—and not as a weight that will drag them down. They don’t know him as you and I do. If Ellich were on the throne, it would be different. But Ellich is imprisoned.”

  Seersha gave it another moment’s thought and then stood. “Then let’s do this another way. Arrange a private audience with the King. Do it any way you can manage, but do it quickly. Let me deal with Phaedon. I think I can find a way.”

  “What you can most probably do is find a way to get yourself locked up with Ellich. The King is not inclined to listen to anyone. He rules, but he is paranoid and in fear for his life. This is a dangerous business you undertake, Seersha.”

  But she insisted, and he finally agreed to do as she asked, though not without once more warning against it.

  He went out again, and this time he was gone for the better part of an hour. While he was absent, she mulled over what lay ahead. The Elves would need to defend the entrance to the Valley of Rhenn. It was their only viable choice if they hoped to make a stand against an army of this size. A narrow opening could be defended and held for at least a few days, long enough perhaps for the combined forces of the Dwarves and Callahorn to reach them and attack the demons from the rear.

  But still the demons would outnumber their combined forces. And even then, would the Straken Lord consider withdrawing?

  She was bothered by the trajectory of the events that had occurred since the demons had broken out of the Forbidding. Why had the Straken Lord attacked Arishaig? The Elves were the real enemy and the Ellcrys the real danger. Of course, the demons would have had to come out of the Forbidding where the wall was weakest and gave them access into the Four Lands. That might have brought them first to Arishaig, and they had simply taken advantage of it. But there was no doubting their ultimate goal—an attack on the Elves and the destruction of the Ellcrys.

  She thought back to the last demon breakout, in the time of Eventine Elessedil. The Druid Histories of those years, compiled by Allanon, were familiar to her. Eventine Elessedil, a strong and competent King, had led an Elven army aided by Trolls, Dwarves, and the Border Legion of Callahorn, and even that had not been enough. Only a rebirth of the Ellcrys had saved the Four Lands—a rebuilding of the wall of the Forbidding so that the demonkind could be banished once again.

  But this was a different world. The alliances of old were gone, and the possibility of the Forbidding being restored was far from certain.

  She wondered suddenly of Railing Ohmsford and his companions and their quest to
discover the fate of Grianne Ohmsford. Was it at all possible that anything would come of that? She had sent him away more to save his life than with any expectation that he would find a woman who by now would be well over a hundred years old.

  But even so, she wondered.

  Sian Aresh reappeared abruptly. “The King has agreed to a private audience. I told him I had someone who witnessed the fall of Arishaig firsthand and who could report on the size and movements of the demon army. I told him that what you have to say is for his ears alone. He does not yet know it is you.”

  She smiled. “Well done. My thanks, Sian. Will you come with me?”

  He laughed. “Will I come with you? I have been ordered to come! What happens to you likely happens to me, as well.”

  She clapped him on the back. “Then I must make certain that we both stay safe.”

  They went out of the building and down through the streets of Arborlon to the palace. Home Guards met them at every turn once they were inside the boundaries of protected territory, but quickly gave way on seeing that it was Sian Aresh who escorted the green-cloaked lady Dwarf. If they recognized Seersha as a Druid, they gave no indication.

  Once they were inside the palace, standing in a hallway that led to the reception chamber where Phaedon would receive them, Sian Aresh pulled her aside.

  “Phaedon will attempt to have you locked up once he knows who you are,” he whispered. “Try not to give him an excuse.” He paused. “Whatever happens, I’ll do my best to get you out if this goes wrong.”

  She fixed him with her good eye. “Phaedon will have troubles of his own before I’m done with him. Just be ready and don’t interfere.”

  He gave her a doubtful look, but said nothing as he continued on, escorting her down the hall to the reception room doors.

  Guards met them in force and closed about them as they entered the room. Phaedon sat in a chair at the far end of the room, smiling.

  Seersha, mindful of protocol, bowed to the King in a clear show of deference. “High Lord,” she greeted him.