The High Druid's Blade: The Defenders of Shannara by Terry Brooks Page A

after a year or so and he could come home again.
    He spent much of his time mulling this over, considering the risks and benefits and looking for a sign that would indicate which way he should turn.
    On the first day of the third week following his return from Wayford, that sign appeared.
    He was working down on the airfield, mending the frayed ends of lengths of radian draws that served as replacements for ones that had broken midflight when a man approached, coming down from the airfield manager’s office at a slow, steady pace. Paxon had never seen him before, but he knew what he was the moment he caught sight of him. Black robes that reached to the ground and covered him from head to foot, a deep-set hood pulled back in the midday sun, and a silver medallion with a hand clasped about a burning torch marked him instantly as a Druid.
    Paxon put down his tools and stood, a dark premonition forming in his chest, quickening his heart.
    The stranger walked up to him, his blue eyes bright and cheerful. “Well met, Paxon Leah. My name is Sebec. I serve in the Fourth Druid Order.”
    He held out his hand and Paxon shook it. Sebec was not particularly tall or imposing looking. If anything, he was slight of build and rather bookish in appearance. And he seemed very young. But there was an intensity to his gaze and a confidence in his manner that let Paxon know not to misjudge him.
    “Your robes and medallion give you away,” the Highlander observed, releasing the other’s hand. “Can I help you?”
    “It might be the other way around.” Sebec gave him a brief smile. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”
    Paxon knew what he was suggesting. That it would be better not to talk out in the open where they could be seen, that whatever the Druid wanted to say would be better said in private. Paxon glanced around, trying to think where the best place might be.
    “Perhaps we could go up to your home and sit outside in the yard while we talk,” Sebec suggested suddenly, revealing he knew more than a little about Paxon already.
    Paxon didn’t argue. Together, they walked up from the airfield, skirting the edge of the city to reach the roadway leading to his home. Paxon watched the Druid out of the corner of his eye, still taking his measure, trying to decide what this was all about—even though he was afraid he already knew. It had to be about his confrontation with Arcannen. It was the only thing he could imagine the Druids would be interested in, although he wasn’t sure how the order had learned of it. He worried it might be because he had summoned the magic of the Sword of Leah, and they had a way of tracking such magic.
    He worried they intended to take his sword away from him.
    Once they had climbed the hill—a task Sebec accomplished without breaking a sweat—they sat down together on the porch steps. His mother called out from inside, then appeared in the doorway, brushing flour from an apron and smiling.
    The smile dropped away when she saw Sebec. “Well met,” she greeted the Druid, quickly putting the smile back in place. “I’m Zeatha Leah.”
    The young Druid stood. “Sebec, of the Fourth Druid Order.”
    Something in his manner made her smile widen in spite of what Paxon recognized as her obvious discomfort. “Welcome to our home, Sebec. I’ve just baked cookies. Would you like some?”
    So Paxon and Sebec sat together on the porch eating cookies and drinking cups of ale while looking out over the city. For a while, neither said anything, concentrating on their eating and drinking, lost in their separate thoughts.
    “You have a beautiful view of the Highlands,” Sebec said finally.
    “The land belonged to my family for centuries,” Paxon replied, nodding in agreement. “Once, we owned for as far as the eye can see. But now we make do with fifteen acres and this view.”
    Sebec loosened the ties on his black robes to open them at the neck and let the breeze cool him. “This would be enough for me,