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

Eventually, the pain and the shock caused him to lose consciousness. When he came awake again, a hand was slapping his face in a rhythmic fashion while another was holding up his head by his hair.

The stranger was kneeling before him. “My name is Arcannen. If you wish to pursue this, you can find me at Dark House in the city of Wayford. You should stay away, but if you can’t help yourself you had better bring a real weapon, not an iron bar. Because if I see you again, I will kill you.”

He rose and stood looking down. “Let him go.”

The fingers tangled in his hair released their grip and his face slammed into the earth. Pain exploded in his head, and bright flashes appeared behind his eyelids. He lay helplessly, fighting to stay conscious. But it was long minutes later before he could bring himself to open his eyes and turn himself over to discover that the stranger’s airship had begun to lift off, light sheaths gathering in sunlight for the radian draws to channel to the parse tubes, thrusters powering up. As battered as he was, as defeated as he felt, he found himself admiring the sleek lines of the vessel, wondering again why he had never seen this sort of airship before. He made himself memorize her look, the emblems on her pennants, the insignia on her bow.

A black raven, wings spread, beak open wide. Attacking.

Then the vessel wheeled south and sped away. By the time Paxon was back on his feet, she was little more than a dot in the distant sky.

He stood looking at nothing for a few moments, waiting to recover from his beating, then turned about and stalked from the airfield. He had really never had a chance at getting Chrys back from the stranger. Arcannen—that was a name he wouldn’t forget. He had provided it willingly—something Raffe had refused to do—so he was confident that it wouldn’t help Paxon to know it. He was a man possessed of a new style of airship and a crew that likely would do anything he asked them to. Somehow, he had been able to persuade Paxon to put down the iron bar when that might have made the difference in the fight.

And he had Chrys in his possession. He was flying her back to Wayford to something called Dark House. Paxon could only imagine what that might turn out to be.

Come find out, Arcannen had challenged. Believing Paxon would never dare to do so, that he had found out the hard way what would happen if he did. The beating was a warning. Stay away. Don’t come after me. Let your sister go. She belongs to me, and I can do with her what I like. You can’t prevent it, and you shouldn’t try. You are a Highlander of no importance living in a place of low regard, and you can never hope to be the equal of me. Stay where you are and stay healthy .

He left the airfield and trudged through the city toward home, picturing Arcannen’s face and hearing his smooth voice in his mind.

So certain that Paxon had been put in his place.

Well, he was in for a surprise.

T

HREE

BY THE TIME HE REACHED HIS HOME AND WALKED INTO THEkitchen to wash off the dirt and blood and put cold compresses on the worst of the bruises, Paxon had made up his mind. He was going after his sister, no matter what Arcannen threatened or what sort of obstacles he might encounter. Any further consideration of the matter was beyond discussion. But he would not be so reckless as he was before. He would not let himself be caught in a situation where he clearly had no hope of accomplishing anything. The outcome would be different this time around.

After he finished washing and applying cold cloths to his battered face, he retired to the front porch to sit and think for a few minutes. Chrys was already at risk, and he didn’t believe for a minute that her captor would sit around deciding what to do with her. If he was to get to his sister before she was subjected to a whole raft of unpleasantness that could easily result in both physical and emotional damage, he needed to do so sooner rather than later. It was helpful knowing who it was he was looking for and where to find him. Arcannen had told him pointedly enough that he would be at Dark House in the city of Wayford, so all Paxon needed to do was to power up the Sprint he had built for himself some years back and fly down there. Someone would be able to give him directions once he arrived, and then he could start looking for Chrys in earnest.

Simple enough, if you didn’t dwell too long on the lack of details—like how he was supposed to get her out of Arcannen’s establishment and safely out of the city without anyone stopping him.

He imagined there would be guards—and probably large numbers of them. On further consideration, it seemed to him that if Arcannen could make him put down that iron bar simply by asking him to do so, he probably possessed magic. Even though it was outlawed in the Southland and any use of it would be dealt with swiftly no matter what sort of immunity he enjoyed, Arcannen did not seem the type to worry much about authority and acts of law. If he had a way to do so, he would have magic in place to defend his home and business, whether they were separate or not—something he needed to consider when he went in search of Chrys.

And he would need one thing more.

He would need a weapon.

Arcannen had told him so, and even if it was simply an embellishment to the dare he had thrown up, it was good advice. After what had happened today, Paxon certainly didn’t intend to face the man again without protection.

He thought about taking someone with him, but that meant calling on friends for a favor they didn’t owe and shouldn’t be asked to give, considering the danger. Better he go alone than risk somebody else’s life as well as his own. A large armed party would attract more attention, anyway. One man, keeping to the shadows, would have a better chance.

Sure he would.

He grimaced at his own facile analysis of the situation. But it was best to stay positive. Pushing aside his doubts, he walked back into the house, dumped the bloodied cloths and cold packs, and changed his clothes. He was in the midst of packing a bag with a few essentials when Jayet appeared in the doorway, calling out to him.

He walked out to face her.

“You look like you got the worst of whatever happened,” she said quietly. “You didn’t get her back, did you?”

“No,” he admitted, “but the matter isn’t finished. I know who he is now and where I can find him. I’m going after him.”

She nodded. “I thought you would. Have you anyone to help you?”

“I think it’s better if I do this alone. Other people might get underfoot. I would have to worry about protecting them as well as myself. If something happened to them, I’d be responsible.”

“There are those who would come with you if you asked,” she said. “You might need someone to watch your back.”

He smiled. “Perhaps you could come,” he joked.

She cocked her head, squaring up to him. “Funny you should say that. I’m exactly who I had in mind.”

He stared at her, then quickly shook his head. “Oh, no. Out of the question, Jayet. You don’t know what this man is like! Arcannen, he calls himself. He’s very dangerous. Ruthless. I’m not letting you risk yourself for me.”

“I wouldn’t be risking myself for you. I’d be risking myself for Chrys. I should have stopped her the moment I saw her getting into that game, begging for a chair, making wild promises and talking like she was something special. I saw all the signs, and I didn’t do a thing to stop it from happening. I just went about my business.”

She ran a hand through her mop of white-blond hair. “Besides, I don’t have anything else to do. I’m out of a job.”