Terry Brooks: High Druid's Blade

The Highlander almost responded, wanting to do something to change things, knowing what was coming. But the Ard Rhys took his arm in a firm grip and turned him away. “Let him be.”

Together, they walked back to the cruiser and climbed aboard. The Trolls, with Captain of the Druid Guard Dajoo Rees leading, went past them toward Sebec as they did so. Momentary wails of despair rose, cries of “Spare me! Give me my life!” And then silence.

When the Trolls returned to the airship and set about casting off the mooring lines and preparing to lift away, Paxon was sitting on the bench he had occupied with Sebec on the flight out, still staring fixedly at the deck planking. At the last possible moment, unable to help himself, he lifted his head and looked back.

Sebec’s body lay sprawled on a blood–soaked patch of ground, separated from his head. As the airship slowly began to rise, his remains grew steadily smaller and finally shrank away to nothing.

After they had been airborne for a time and Paxon had begun to recover his composure, the Ard Rhys came back to sit beside him. “I wish there had been another choice,” she said quietly.

The Highlander exhaled sharply, running his hands through his red hair. “I trusted him. I liked him. I don’t understand.”

She shook her head. “People are capable of terrible things. We think we know them, but we really don’t. We let ourselves be deceived because we are always expecting the best out of those who seem willing to provide it.”

“He was always so respectful when talking about you. ‘My mistress.’ He called you that constantly. He helped me with my training; he seemed to want to make things easier for me. But all along he was thinking of ways to help Arcannen. Even if it meant I got hurt. Or killed. Chrys, too. He knew what he was doing. He had to. How could he live with himself?”

“He would have explained everything away, given the chance to do so–telling himself and all of us it was necessary or unavoidable. He would have been able to provide reasons for all of it. A basket full of justifications. Sebec had so much potential; he could have done everything he said he wanted to do without giving in to Arcannen. But he didn’t see it. He believed there was only one choice–to use us, to betray the Druid order, to embrace the roles of traitor and spy.”

Paxon straightened and looked at her. “What do you think will happen when Arcannen finds out?”

She met his gaze and held it. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t suppose so.”

“What matters right now, Paxon, is how all this has affected you. I brought you out here for a specific reason. Not because I couldn’t have told you about Sebec in Paranor and left you behind while I dealt with him, but because I thought it was important for you to see for yourself what is sometimes required of us. Of you, as a Druid protector, every bit as much as the Druids themselves. Things of this sort have happened before; they will happen again. There will almost certainly be disappointments and deceptions in your life with us. There will be times when you hate yourself for what you have to do. There will be times when the choices will be as difficult as the one you made in Wayford when you let Arcannen go free in order to help your sister. You came to us to find a purpose in your life, a path that would lead you to something important and meaningful. But following that path can also break your heart.”

She was talking about herself and Sebec. She was explaining to him how hard it could be to accept the way things sometimes worked out.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” he said. “I still want to be at Paranor. I still want to do what you’ve asked of me.”

She smiled then, and the creases in her brow lessened marginally and the light in her eyes brightened.

“Then you shall have your chance.”