The Heritage of Shannara Read Online Free PDF Page A

The matter needed a great deal more thought. “I think we had better decline for now,” he said evenly. “That is, if we're being given a choice.”
    “Of course you are being given a choice!” The stranger seemed offended.
    “Then we have to say no. But we thank you for the offer and especially for your help back there.”
    The stranger studied him a moment, solemn again. “You are quite welcome, believe me. I wish only the best for you, Par Ohmsford. Here, take this.” He removed from one hand a ring that was cast in silver and bore the insigne of a hawk. “My friends know me by this. If you need a favor—or if you change your mind—take this to Kiltan Forge at Reaver's End at the north edge of the city and ask for the Archer. Can you remember that?”
    Par hesitated, then took the ring, nodding. “But why … ?”
    “Because there is much between us, lad,” the other said softly, anticipating his question. One hand reached out to rest on his shoulder. The eyes took in Coll as well. “There is history that binds us, a bond of such strength that it requires I be there for you if I can. More, it requires that westand together against what is threatening this land. Remember that, too. One day, we will do so, I think—if we all manage to stay alive until then.”
    He grinned at the brothers and they stared back silently. The stranger's hand dropped away. “Time to go now. Quickly, too. The street runs east to the river. You can go where you wish from there. But watch yourselves. Keep your backs well guarded. This matter isn't finished.”
    “I know,” Par said and extended his hand. “Are you certain you will not tell us your name?”
    The stranger hesitated. “Another day,” he said.
    He gripped Par's hand tightly, then Coll's, then whistled his companions to him. He waved once, then melted into the shadows and was gone.
    Par stared down momentarily at the ring, then glanced questioningly at Coll. Somewhere close at hand, the sound of shouting started up.
    “I think the questions will have to wait,” said Coll.
    Par jammed the ring into his pocket. Wordlessly, they disappeared into the night.

3

    I t was nearing midnight by the time Par and Coll reached the waterfront section of Varfleet, and it was there that they first realized how ill-prepared they were to make their escape from Rimmer Dall and his Federation Seekers. Neither had expected that flight would prove necessary, so neither had brought anything that a lengthy journey might require. They had no food, no blankets, no weapons save for the standard long knives all Valemen wore, no camping gear or foul-weather equipment, and worst of all, no money. The ale house keeper hadn't paid them in a month. What money they had managed to save from the month before had been lost in the fire along with everything else they owned. They had only the clothes on their backs and a growing fear that perhaps they should have stuck with the nameless stranger a bit longer.
    The waterfront was a ramshackle mass of boathouses, piers, mending shops, and storage sheds. Lights burned along its length, and dockworkers and fishermen drank and joked in the light of oil lamps and pipes. Smoke rose out of tin stoves and barrels, and the smell of fish hung over everything.
    “Maybe they've given up on us for the night,” Par suggested at one point. “The Seekers, I mean. Maybe they won't bother looking anymore until morning—or maybe not at all.”
    Coll glanced at him and arched one eyebrow meaningfully. “Maybe cows can fly too.” He looked away. “We should have insisted we be paid more promptly for our work. Then we wouldn't be in this fix.”
    Par shrugged. “It wouldn't have made any difference.”
    “It wouldn't? We'd at least have some money!”
    “Only if we'd thought to carry it with us to the performance. How likely is that?”
    Coll hunched his shoulders and screwed up his face. “That ale house keeper owes us.”
    They walked all the way to the south