Brooks, Terry - High Druid's Blade - The Defenders of Shannara (9780345540713)

He searched for a way to escape them, for any refuge at all that would put him beyond their reach. But it was well past midnight, with dawn still hours away, and no one was on the streets and no lights shone in the windows of the houses. He thought momentarily to climb a tree, a few of which were in evidence, but doing that would put him at the mercy of the sorcerer if he were tracking him, and Paxon felt pretty certain he was.

Finally, he turned, his back against a stone building wall, and used the magic of the sword once more. Sheets of fire cut him off from the wolves, which slowed and backed away, snapping and tearing at the flames with their huge fangs, searching for a way to break through his defenses. Using magic was new to Paxon, and he was uncertain of its limits. He could feel his grip on it slipping away, suggesting it was neither unlimited nor certain. If he didn’t break free of the wolves quickly, he would have to start running again.

But this time, they would be right on his heels.

How, he kept wondering, could a sorcerer conjure something of substance out of thin air? That shouldn’t be possible.

So maybe it wasn’t.

He dropped his broad defense against the pack and turned the sword on the closest wolf. Fire sheeted into the beast, and it vaporized instantly. Nothing but an image, he realized. He went after the others, disintegrating them one by one, until they were all gone.

Then he began to run again.

Behind him, the streets were quiet. No pursuit showed itself; Arcannen remained a threat that did not materialize.

He ran for what seemed like hours before he reached the airfield. To his relief, both Jayet and Chrys were already there, waiting by the Sprint. Grehling, as good as his word, had the vessel powered up and ready for liftoff.

“I owe you for your help,” Paxon told the boy.

Grehling shrugged. “You already paid me. Remember? And if anyone asks—Arcannen, especially—I never saw you.”

Paxon and the girls climbed aboard and buckled on their safety harnesses. In seconds they were airborne and flying north toward the Highlands and home.

F

IVE

ONCE THEY WERE BACK IN THE HIGHLANDS AGAIN, PAXONLeah did his best to put the entire incident behind him. From his point of view, the less said about it, the better. He was no hero, and he didn’t want anyone in Leah or anywhere else trying to make him one.

Mostly, he didn’t want any word getting out about the Sword of Leah and its magic. Even though neither Jayet nor his sister had been present to witness the events surrounding his use of the blade, he had warned them not to talk to anyone about anything that had happened. He could assume that neither girl knew anything that might give away the sword’s secret, but there was no point in taking chances. As an added precaution, he started carrying the weapon with him, keeping it close at all times. Hanging it back over the fireplace was out of the question.

The girls, of course, were already proclaiming him a hero and were quick to insist that even if they couldn’t talk about it to anyone but each other, their opinion of him was not about to change. He could live with this, even though he insisted he hadn’t done that much; he never said a word to them about what he had discovered the sword could do or what he had witnessed in his battle with Arcannen. He simply told them that it was a difficult struggle and they were all lucky to escape.

Neither girl argued with what he was telling them—both grateful just to be home again and away from Arcannen and Dark House—but he knew Chrysallin suspected he wasn’t telling them everything. She was particularly suspicious about the sword, even after he tried to explain it away by telling her that the sword served as protection against any further attacks. The way she looked at him as he offered this explanation let him know she thought there was something more to it.

But Paxon refused to talk about it, repeating at every opportunity that she should do as he had instructed and keep this whole business to herself. Especially from their mother, who fortunately hadn’t returned in time to discover any of what had happened. She might hear of the confrontation at the Two Roosters, but she was not to hear of the kidnapping or the events that took place in Wayford.

For the time being, they all needed to be very careful of where they went and what they did. Given Arcannen’s reputation, this might not be finished. Even though Paxon could not believe the sorcerer would risk a return visit to Leah and the Highlands anytime soon, it would be a mistake to take that for granted. So they all needed to keep alert, and if they went anywhere they were not to go alone. Chrys, particularly, had to do better about watching out for herself. She had to stop putting herself at risk.

His sister was quick to shrug off his warning, but he had seen the look in her eyes when she was in Arcannen’s hands. She was lucky she hadn’t been hurt or molested in any way, and she knew it. Staying close to home and out of trouble would appeal to her for a while at least, and Paxon hoped that would be long enough.

Meanwhile, he asked about in the city, speaking of a rumor he had heard—that there was a sorcerer in Wayford named Arcannen who owned a business called Dark House and not only commanded magic but was using it in defiance of Federation law. He communicated with those he knew who served on the Highlands Council, the official governing body of the country, and again with a select group of men and women who had family and friends living in Wayford, but his inquiries always ended in cautions. If anyone knew of this man and this place, it might be a good idea to speak with someone in the Federation government about what might be happening and see if something couldn’t be done about it.

And he asked everyone to be sure to let him know if they found out anything useful.

But no one had heard or knew anything about Arcannen and Dark House. After a day or two of asking, he quit. He could only do so much without engaging in a full-on confrontation with the sorcerer.

Even so, he asked the airfield manager and his mechanics to keep watch for any vessel bearing an attacking raven as its emblem or flying a pennant designating it as a ship registered out of Wayford.

Life went back to the way it had been. He continued making shipping runs into other regions of the Four Lands, but he took Chrys with him when he did, teaching her what he knew about airships and flying, doing what he could to distract her from what had happened and from thoughts of Arcannen’s possible return. Jayet had found another job with another tavern, working once again as a serving girl, but with better people around her. She had grown much closer to Chrys since the Two Roosters incident, and they had started to talk about forming a business making jewelry and baskets. It gave Paxon considerable peace of mind to know that his sister was spending most of her time with someone who would have at least a reasonable chance of keeping her out of trouble.

He couldn’t have said why Chrys was the way she was. They had grown up in the same household with the same mother, and they had both suffered to some extent from the death of their father. But nothing dramatic or life changing had happened to his sister to turn her into such a wild creature. Nothing had happened to her that hadn’t happened to him—nothing that would explain why she was so reckless and unsettled.

He watched her while they made their airship runs, working the lines of the trader, tying off radian draws onto the parse tube connectors and hoisting light sheaths and spars. Tall, rangy, already beginning to grow out of her midteen awkwardness, she had all the makings of a first-class airman. She learned quickly, she worked hard, and she listened.