The High Druid's Blade: The Defenders of Shannara Read Online Free PDF Page A

in tow, he walked back down to the north end of the airfield where he kept his vessels moored. He had several—or, he amended quickly, the family had several. The transport—a big, looming carrier with four masts and multiple light sheaths that required a crew of four, the balance of which he usually found from a pool of airship fliers who worked as independent contractors—an elderly skiff that wasn’t good for much, and his Sprint. He would take the Sprint, of course; it was small, fast, maneuverable, and very dependable.
    He walked over to where it was docked inside its locked hangar—a building that was more shed than hangar, constructed specifically to shelter the vessel from weather and tampering. He checked the lock, then released it and opened the door. With Jayet’s help, he pulled the Sprint clear, put up its raked single mast, and fastened down the radian draws. Then he closed the door to the shed and locked it anew.
    “Ready?” he asked her.
    She nodded. “Let’s fly.”
    Moments later they were airborne, winging their way south. Paxon had traveled to Wayford on cargo hauls a few times, and he could find his way without maps or compass. But he didn’t know anything much about the city proper, having flown in and out again without leaving the airfield. Once they got to Wayford, he would need help.
    He wasn’t taking anything about this mission for granted. He knew he was going to need all kinds of help from one source or another. Maybe Jayet would provide some of it. Maybe strangers would provide the rest. But he would need luck, too. Probably a lot of it.
    Even so, his conviction that he could find his sister and bring her home again remained undiminished. Nothing would prevent that from happening.
    They flew south through the rest of the day and into the night. By the time the lights of the city came in sight, it was well after midnight. Jayet was sleeping, curled up in her seat behind him, her spiky hair flattened against the cushions, her face relaxed and bathed in starlight. He found her suddenly pretty—an attribute he’d somehow overlooked before. He smiled in spite of himself. She didn’t look so tough now.
    Wayford’s airfield was three times the size of Leah’s, and the sea of ships that filled her acres of open grassland and landing pads seemed to stretch away for thousands of yards. He maneuvered the Sprint onto a pad that was vacant, close to the field manager’s office, and shut her down. Jayet was awake, looking around sleepily.
    Paxon climbed out of the pilot box and stretched. “Wait here.”
    He reached inside the pilot box, pulled out the Sword of Leah—which he had taken off while they were flying—and strapped it across his back once more. Then he walked over to the field manager’s office and stepped through the door. The boy sitting in the field manager’s desk might have been thirteen or fourteen, but no older. “Kind of young to be an airfield manager, aren’t you?” Paxon asked him.
    The boy shrugged. “I’m old enough.” He was looking at Paxon’s sword, its black length poking up over the latter’s shoulder.
    “Can you give me that pad for one night? Maybe for two?”
    “Yours as long as you want it. Just sign the register.”
    He shoved a book across the desk, and Paxon filled in the requisite space. “How much?”
    “Pay when you leave.” He gestured. “Nice-looking blade. Old, but it has clean lines. Bet you know how to use it, too.”
    “Want to take a look?”
    The boy rocked forward and stood up. Paxon unsheathed his sword and offered it to him. The boy examined it carefully, handed it back, and once it was sheathed again extended his hand. “I’m Grehling Cara. My dad’s the airfield manager. Hei’s off for the night, but I fill in for him. He’s teaching me the business.”
    “Paxon Leah. Your father must have some confidence in you.”
    The boy pointed out the window at the Sprint. “I like your ship, too. Did you build her