First King of Shannara Read Online Free PDF Page B

recalcitrant Druids of Paranor into reconsidering their involvement with the Four Lands, and no one to stand against the Warlock Lord. Once, he had hoped that Kinson Ravenlock might be that man . The Borderman might still be, he supposed, but it did not seem likely. Kinson lacked the necessary patience. He disdained any pretense of diplomacy. He had no time for those who could not grasp truths he felt were obvious. Experience was the only teacher he had ever respected. He was an iconoclast and a persistent loner. None of these characteristics would serve him well as a Druid, but it seemed impossible that he could ever be any different from the way he was.
    Bremen glanced over at his friend, suddenly unhappy with his analysis. It was not fair to judge Kinson so. It was enough that the Borderman was as devoted as he was, enough that he would stand with him to the death if it was required. Kinson was the best of friends and allies, and it was wrong to expect more of him.
    It was just that his need for a successor was so desperate! He was old, and time was slipping away too quickly.
    He took his eyes from Kinson and looked off into the distant trees as if to measure what little remained.
    It was past midday when Caerid Lock finally reappeared. He stalked out of the shadows of the doorway with barely a glance at the guards or Kinson and came directly to Bremen. The Druid climbed to his feet to greet him, his joints and his muscles cramped.
    â€œAthabasca will speak with you,” the Captain of the Druid Guard advised, grim-faced.
    Bremen nodded. “You must have worked hard to persuade him. I am in your debt, Caerid.”
    The Elf grunted noncommittally. “I would not be so sure. Athabasca has his own reasons for agreeing to this meeting, I think.” He turned to Kinson. “I am sorry, but I could not gain entrance for you.”
    Kinson straightened and shrugged. “I will be happier waiting here, I expect.”
    â€œI expect,” agreed the other. “I will send you out some food and fresh water. Bremen, are you ready?”
    The Druid looked at Kinson and smiled faintly. “I will be back as soon as I can.”
    â€œGood luck to you,” his friend offered quietly.
    Then Bremen was following Caerid Lock through the entry of the Keep and into the shadows beyond.
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    They walked down cavernous hallways and winding, narrow corridors in cool, dark silence, their footsteps echoing off the heavy stone. They encountered no one. It was as if Paranor were deserted, and Bremen knew that was not so. Several times, he thought he caught a whisper of conversation or a hint of movement somewhere distant from where they walked, but he could never be certain. Caerid was taking him down the back passageways, the ones seldom used, the ones kept solely for private comings and goings. It seemed understandable. Athabasca did not want the other Druids to know he was permitting this meeting until after he had decided if it was worth having. Bremen would be given a private audience and a brief opportunity to state his case, and then he would be either summarily dismissed or summoned to address the Council. Either way, the decision would be made quickly.
    They began to climb a series of stairs toward the upper chambers of the Keep. Athabasca’s offices were well up in the tower, and it was likely that he intended to see Bremen there. The old man pondered Caerid Lock’s words as they proceeded. Athabasca would have his reasons for agreeing to this meeting, and they would not necessarily be immediately apparent. The High Druid was a politician first, an administrator second, and a functionary above all. This was not to demean him; it was simply to categorize the nature of his thinking. His primary focus would be one of cause and effect—that is, if one thing happened, how would it impact on another. That was the way his mind worked. He was able and organized, but he was calculating as well. Bremen would