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

“Do you think we could go back there tonight?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

“The miller’s?” Starks shrugged. “I suppose. It will be dark, though. Are you hoping to catch the creature in mid-change?”

Paxon shook his head no. “I just want to talk to the girl again. I’m worried about her.”

“She does seem a bit frail. She said he is afraid for her? Why would that be?”

“That’s one of my questions.” Paxon leaned back in his chair. “Do you think you can decoy him away for a few minutes when we go back?”

They talked about how to do so, already decided that waiting around until tomorrow was a waste of time and that going tonight made better sense. There was no guarantee the creature killing the villagers would delay doing so again, so the quicker they got to the bottom of this, the better.

“I still don’t understand the nature of the magic involved,” Paxon said a bit later. “If it isn’t a talisman, how are we supposed to recover it? Killing the creature won’t give it to us, will it?”

Starks shrugged. “I don’t know. The Ard Rhys made it plain enough that the killings were to be stopped, no matter what. I have accepted those marching orders and put aside any consideration of recovering magic until afterward. There are all kinds of magic, Paxon. This is a new one, although I would guess that somewhere in the Druid Histories there is a record of one similar. Magic doesn’t live in a vacuum; it always has a traceable source.”

They finished their ale and then thought to ask the tavern owner if they could get dinner. He said that the answer was usually no but his wife was making a roast and for a reasonable price they might share it. Both Starks and Paxon were quick to agree, even though the price asked was considerably more than a meal would normally cost.

So they remained at the tavern through dinner, and then set out for the miller’s place. They rode through the twilight toward the purple-and-gray foothills, turned off on the trail that paralleled the river, and arrived just before nightfall at the mill. The air was cool and windless, and the night birds were still. In the darkness before them, bats flew in sudden bursts from the trees and eaves of the house.

Just before they started to dismount, Paxon turned to Starks. “Do you think there is a possibility Crombie Joh might be this creature?”

Starks gave him a careful look. “I think anyone and everyone might be this creature. Remember that.”

They walked up to the veranda, and Joh appeared in the doorway before they reached it. “Kind of late for a visit, isn’t it?” he asked.

“We’re trying to make the best use of our time,” Starks said vaguely, greeting him with a handshake. “A few more things came to mind. I thought we could walk down to the mill to talk about them. Paxon can stay here with your daughter, just to be sure she’s kept safe and sound while you’re gone.”

The miller frowned. “She could go with us. She should, I think.”

“It might be best if she stays behind. What I have to tell you is not fit for young ears. It will remind her of the very things you’ve already said she needs to forget.”

“Did I say that? Well, I suppose I did.” He looked discomfited. “All right. If this doesn’t take too long.”

“I’ll wait here on the porch,” Paxon announced, already moving over to seat himself. “Unless you think she needs me to come in.”

“No, no, you’re fine where you are.” The big man hesitated, then started walking. “Just for a few minutes, though.”

Paxon sat alone in the darkness, conscious of the weight of his sword where it pressed against his back, a comforting presence. His eyes were sufficiently adjusted to the darkness by now that he could see almost everything clearly in the mix of light from the quarter moon and stars. He could hear the steady rippling of the river as it flowed past the cottage some thirty feet away, its movement casting a silvery sheen in the moonlight.

Not a minute had passed before Iantha came through the door and sat down beside him.

“You came back,” she said. Her eyes were huge in the darkness, her fine dark hair like a veil where it spilled over her face.

“I was worried about you. I didn’t like what you had to say about your father. Why wouldn’t he want you to have friends?”

“He’s just trying to protect me. But I suppose it could be something else.”

He waited, but she didn’t say anything more. “Are you afraid of him?”

She stared at him. “What an odd question. No, I’m not afraid of him. He’s my father. I’m just worried about him.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “He takes too many chances. He’s brave, and he’s strong, so he thinks nothing can hurt him.”

“Like the creature that’s doing these killings?”

She hesitated. “Maybe. Maybe something else.”

She looked over at him and then without warning kissed him on the mouth, her hands gripping his arms to hold him to her. When she released him, there was a smile on her lips. “Did you like it?”

He smiled back. “Of course. But why kiss me?”

“Because. I told you already. You are nice. I like you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“You don’t kiss people because you know them. You kiss them because you want to.”

He wasn’t sure that was so for most people, but maybe it was for her. They sat together in silence for a few moments, and then he said, “Why do you think your friend was killed by the creature?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe he did something to make it angry. Maybe he did something he shouldn’t have.”

“What about the other people? Did they all do something to make it angry?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m only guessing.” She looked at him again. “Do you think it killed them for no reason?”

“I don’t know why it kills. Maybe it was random. Maybe it just kills because it likes killing.”

“That would make it difficult to find, wouldn’t it?” she asked. “How would you ever find it? Unless you happened to be right there when it tried to kill someone, you never could.”

“Oh, we’ll find it,” he replied.

Starks and her father were coming back from the mill, their dark forms emerging from the darkness. “Do you want me to come back tomorrow?” he asked her suddenly.

She leaned into him. “Yes. Father will be gone for several hours in the early afternoon, making deliveries. We could talk more then.” She hesitated. “I have things I need to tell you.”

She stood suddenly, pulling him up with her. “I like you, Paxon. I like you a lot.”

Then she turned and ran back inside the cabin and did not come out again.

T

WELVE

AT NOON OF THE FOLLOWING DAY, PAXON RODE OUT ALONE TOthe old mill, taking his time as he went. The day was gray and cloudy, the smell of rain in the air, the dampness palpable on the chilly wind that blew down out of the north. Paxon was thinking about what waited, his mind on unanswered questions, some of which he would ask, some he might not. The answers he anticipated receiving did not put him in a good mood. His suspicions were aroused, had been so since last night, and his expectation of what he would find out today depressed him. But he was protector for the Druids, and so he would do what he knew he must to put an end to the creature.

He had talked it over with Starks after they had returned from Crombie Joh’s mill yesterday, deeply concerned for the girl Iantha, worried that she was in considerable danger. It seemed obvious to him by now that the miller was the creature they were hunting, and his daughter knew it and was looking for a way to get away from him. Starks wondered why she hadn’t been attacked before now, though he guessed maybe her father could distinguish between her and anyone else when he was the creature. But he agreed after hearing the details of her conversation with Paxon that there was cause for concern for her welfare and that something needed to be done.