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

He was paid that very day and signed papers for the transfer of all airships, spare parts, and the storage shed. He kept his Sprint and arranged for the manager of the airfield to store and care for it in his absence. He told his mother and his sister what he had done, but neither complained or voiced concern. It was the right thing to do, his mother insisted. Just so long as we have money to buy food, said his sister.

Though hesitant about doing so, he went to Jayet at the Brew Tide to tell her good-bye. She was cheerful and calm until the very end, when she broke down in tears and kissed him and told him she would think of him every day and pretty much clung to him until he pried her loose. It was a little disconcerting, but he supposed she felt a little more possessive of him because of her involvement in getting Chrys back from Arcannen. Whatever the case, he promised he would take care of himself and not indulge in reckless behavior and be back to see her no matter what when he returned to visit his family.

So with farewells exchanged and the airfreight business disposed of, he departed with a sense of finality, prepared to begin anew, his future a bright uncertainty that beckoned with all the flash and elusiveness of a colorful songbird. Nothing was promised him, and what he might gain from this experience was yet to be determined, but the possibilities were out there in recognizable and tempting forms that drew him on.

He made the journey in relative silence, wrapped in thoughts of what lay ahead. Sebec let him be, perhaps sensing what he was going through. It took them all day to reach Paranor, the sun just setting as they skimmed the forests surrounding the Keep before setting down on the airship landing pad. Sebec took Paxon to his new quarters, a room higher up in the building this time, and got him settled in. Then he accompanied Paxon to dinner and introduced him to a few of his friends—Avelene, with her lavender eyes and bladed features; Zabb Ruh, come from a farming village in the deep Southland called Terran, where he had been viewed as a warlock and worse because of his talent with magic; and Oost Mondara, who would be Paxon’s instructor in the use of weapons.

This last introduction was a bit unsettling for a couple of reasons. First, Oost was a Gnome, which meant he was small and wiry and not very impressive physically. How he could instruct anyone as big as Paxon on how to use blades, where close combat was almost always necessary, was difficult to imagine. Second, Oost barely gave him a glance, providing a perfunctory greeting and going right back to eating his meal. Already, Paxon didn’t like him.

But when they were alone again, Sebec told him not to prejudge the Gnome. “The Ard Rhys could have chosen a different instructor,” he said to the Highlander, “but she very deliberately chose Oost because he is the most talented and skilled of those who serve the order.” He paused. “Also, you might want to know that Oost was less than thrilled about the assignment. He thinks you won’t last because people like you always believe magic can get them out of any sort of trouble and fail to concentrate on the skills a real swordsman needs to survive.”

“Then he knows about the Sword of Leah? The Ard Rhys told him?”

“She did. She knew he would want to know, even though he wouldn’t like it. But Oost will do what he’s told, and he will do his best. It’s up to you to prove him wrong. And don’t underestimate him. You do that at your peril.”

Paxon had no intention of prejudging or underestimating anyone while he was at Paranor, and all he asked was that he be extended the same courtesy. From what he had seen and heard so far, he wasn’t sure this would happen with Oost Mondara.

His final introduction that evening was to a tall, lean Elf named Isaturin, who was second in status only to the Ard Rhys and widely considered to be the favorite as her successor. He greeted Paxon warmly and told him he was most welcome, and they were all looking forward to his contributions as a paladin for the order. He knew Leah and talked about the Highlands in such familiar terms that Paxon was immediately put at ease in his presence.

When he had moved away, Sebec said, “He is our designated ambassador to most of the governments and monarchies of the Four Lands. When the Ard Rhys doesn’t travel, which is most of the time now, Isaturin goes in her place. He is a skilled orator and negotiator, as you might have guessed. He is very well liked everywhere, and he has done more to bring about a change in our relationships with the Races than anyone.” He paused. “He must have taken a liking to you. He isn’t usually so enthusiastic about newcomers. I know he’s spent time in Leah, so maybe that’s it. For an Elf, he’s very open about his admiration for the Southland and its people.”

“I don’t remember ever seeing him in Leah, but he certainly knows his way around. He even knew the tavern where my sister’s friend Jayet works.”

Sebec shrugged. “He knows a lot of things others don’t. And he is a skilled magic user, perhaps the best at Paranor. He can do things I’ve never seen anyone else do—not even the Ard Rhys. He can disappear while you’re looking at him. He can move short distances through space, disassembling and reassembling himself in the process.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how he does even half of it.”

He returned Paxon to his room then and told him he would come back for him after sunrise. “We’ll use the morning to give you a tour of the buildings and grounds. In the afternoon, you will begin your weapons training with Oost. Better get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

Paxon took him at his word and said good night. Inside his room, he stood looking out the window, taking in the torchlit stone walls and ironbound gates, the lighted windows in the buildings all around him, the parapets and battlements, the soaring towers, and the layers of shadows draped everywhere. It looked and felt so different from home that for a moment he felt a keen disappointment and a sudden homesickness for the familiar Highlands.

But the moment passed, and he went back to thinking about what would happen tomorrow. Would he be allowed to use his own sword? Or would Oost feel its inherent magic a distraction that should not be allowed? When would he be permitted to start training with magic? Were there other students like himself, others with the use of magic brought in to fill the same position? Was he in competition with anyone?

The questions swirled around him like moths drawn to a flame, and even after he had shed his clothes and climbed into bed they were still flitting about, erratic little gadflies inside his head, pressing for attention.

It was a long time before he closed his eyes, brushed the questions away, and fell asleep.

He woke at sunrise and was dressed and waiting when Sebec came for him. The young Druid looked fresh and rested in a way Paxon did not feel, and as always he was cheerful as he took the Highlander down to breakfast and then began their tour of the Keep.

As they moved from building to building and room to room, Sebec kept up a running commentary on recent Druid history.

“Everything changed after the collapse of the Forbidding and the escape of the demons into the Four Lands,” he told Paxon. “The Fourth Druid Order was almost decimated, all of them killed save Aphenglow Elessedil and a Dwarf named Seersha. When the Forbidding was restored and the escaped creatures were locked away again, those two were all that was left. The order almost collapsed. But Aphenglow chose to go back to become the Ard Rhys, even though she had doubts about doing so. Her Elven heritage made the choice difficult. At that point, the Elves neither trusted nor supported the Druids. Anyone from the Westland who joined the order became something of an outcast. That was the case with Aphenglow, even before she became the Ard Rhys and undertook the job of rebuilding the order.