The Heritage of Shannara (47 page)

“As I said, there are more questions than answers,” Coll declared. He shifted his heavy frame to a more comfortable position.

Damson shook her head. “Something seems wrong here. Why would the Federation have any dealings with the Shadowen? The Shadowen represent everything the Federation is against—magic, the old ways, the subversion of the Southland and its people. How would the Federation even go about making such an arrangement? It has no defense against the Shad-owen magic. How would it protect itself ?”

“Maybe it doesn't have to,” Coll said suddenly. They looked at him. “Maybe the Federation has given the Shadowen someone else to feed on besides itself, someone the Federation has no use for in any case. Perhaps that's what became of the Elves.” He paused. “Perhaps that's what's happening now to the Dwarves.”

They were silent as they considered the possibility. Par hadn't thought about the Dwarves for a time, the horrors of Culhaven and its people shoved to the back of his mind these past few weeks. He remembered what he had seen there—the poverty, the misery, the oppression. The Dwarves were being exterminated for reasons that had never been clear. Could Coll be right? Could the Federation be feeding the Dwarves to the Shadowen as a part of some unspeakable bargain between them?

His face tightened in dismay. “But what would the Federation get in return?”

“Power,” Damson Rhee said immediately. Her face was still and white.

“Power over the Races, over the Four Lands,” Coll agreed, nodding. “It makes sense, Par.”

Par shook his head slowly. “But what happens when there is no one left but the Federation? Surely someone must have thought of that. What keeps the Shadowen from feeding on them as well?”

No one answered. “We're still missing something,” Par said softly. “Something important.”

He rose, walked to the other side of the room, stood looking into space for a long moment, shook his head finally, turned, and came back. His lean face was stubborn with determination as he reseated himself.

“Let's get back to the matter of the Shadowen in the Pit,” he declared quietly, “since that, at least, is a mystery that we might be able to solve.” He folded his legs in front of him and eased forward. He looked at each of them in turn, then said, “I think that the reason they are down there is to keep anyone from getting to the Sword of Shannara.”

“Par!” Coll tried to object, but his brother cut him off with a quick shake of his head.

“Think about it a moment, Coll. Padishar was right. Why would the Federation go to all the trouble of remaking the People's Park and the Bridge of Sendic? Why would they hide what remains of the old park and bridge in that ravine? Why, if not to conceal the Sword? And we've seen the vault, Coll! We've seen it!”

“The vault, yes—but not the Sword,” Damson pointed out quietly, her green eyes intense as they met those of the Valemen.

“But if the Sword isn't down in the Pit as well, why are the Shadowen there?” Par asked at once. “Surely not to protect an empty vault! No, the Sword is still there, just as it has been for three hundred years. That's why Allanon sent me after it—he knew it was there, waiting to be found.”

“He could have saved us a lot of time and trouble by telling us as much,” said Coll pointedly.

Par shook his head. “No, Coll. That isn't the way he would do it. Think about the history of the Sword. Bremen gave it to Jerle Shannara some thousand years ago to destroy the Warlock Lord and the Elf King couldn't master it because he wasn't prepared to accept what it demanded of him. When Allanon chose Shea Ohmsford to finish the job five hundred years later, he decided that the Valeman must first prove himself. If he was not strong enough to wield it, if he did not want it badly enough, if he were not willing to give enough of himself to the task that finding it entailed, then the power of the Sword would prove too much for him as well. And he knew if that happened, the Warlock Lord would escape again.”

“And he believes it will be the same now with you,” Damson finished. She was looking at Par as if she were seeing him for the first time. “If you are not strong enough, if you are not willing to give enough, the Sword of Shannara will be useless to you. The Shadowen will prevail.”

Par's answering nod was barely discernible.

“But why would the Shadowen—or the Federation, for that matter— leave the Sword in the Pit all these years?” Coll demanded, irritated that they were even talking about the matter after what had happened to them last night. “Why not simply remove it—or better yet, why not destroy it?”

Par's face was intense. “I don't think either the Federation or the Shad-owen can destroy it—not a talisman of such power. I doubt that the Shadowen can even touch it. The Warlock Lord couldn't. What I can't figure out is why the Federation hasn't taken it out and hidden it.”

He clasped his hands tightly before him. “In any case, it doesn't matter. The fact remains the Sword is still there, still in its vault.” He paused, eyes level. “Waiting for us.”

Coll gaped at him, realizing for the first time what he was suggesting. For a moment, he couldn't speak at all. “You can't be serious, Par,” he managed finally, the disbelief in his voice undisguised. “After what happened last night? After seeing …” He forced himself to stop, then snapped, “You wouldn't last two minutes.”

“Yes, I would,” Par replied. His eyes were bright with determination. “I know I would. Allanon told me as much.”

Coll was aghast. “Allanon! What are you talking about?”

“He said we had the skills needed to accomplish what was asked— Walker, Wren, and myself. Remember? In my case, I think he was talking about the wishsong. I think he meant that the magic of the wishsong would protect me.”

“Well, it's done a rather poor job of it up to now!” Coll snapped, lashing out furiously.

“I didn't understand what it could do then. I think I do now.”

“You think? You think? Shades, Par!”

Par remained calm. “What else are we to do? Run back to the Jut? Run home? Spend the rest of our days sneaking about?” Par's hands were shaking. “Coll, I haven't any choice. I have to try.”

Coll's strong face closed in upon itself in dismay, his mouth tightening against whatever outburst threatened to break free. He wheeled on Damson, but the girl had her eyes locked on Par and would not look away.

The Valeman turned back, gritting his teeth. “So you would go back down into the Pit on the strength of an unproven and untested belief. You would risk your life on the chance that the wishsong—a magic that has failed to protect you three times already against the Shadowen—will somehow protect you now. And all because of what you perceive as your newfound insight into a dead man's words!” He drew his breath in slowly. “I cannot believe you would do anything so … stupid! If I could think of anything worse to call it, I would!”

“Coll …”

“No, don't say another word to me! I have gone with you everywhere, followed after you, supported you, done everything I could to keep you safe—and now you plan to throw yourself away! Just waste your life! Do you understand what you are doing, Par? You are sacrificing yourself ! You still think you have some special ability to decide what's right! You are obsessed! You can't ever let go, even when common sense tells you you should!”

Coll clenched his fists before him. His face was rigid and furrowed, and it was all he could do to keep his voice level. Par had never seen him so angry. “Anyone else would back away, think it through, and decide to go for help. But you're not planning on any of that, are you? I can see it in your eyes. You haven't the time or the patience. You've made up your mind. Forget Padishar or Morgan or anyone else but yourself. You mean to have that Sword! You'd even give up your life to have it, wouldn't you?”

“I am not so blind …”

“Damson, you talk to him!” Coll interrupted, desperate now. “I know you care for him; tell him what a fool he is!”

But Damson Rhee shook her head. “No. I won't do that.” Coll stared at her, stunned. “I haven't the right,” she finished softly.

Coll went silent then, his rough features sagging in defeat. No one spoke immediately, letting the momentary stillness settle across the room. Daylight had shifted with the sun's movement west, gone now to the far side of the little storage shed, the shadows beginning to lengthen slightly in its wake. A scattering of voices sounded from somewhere in the streets beyond and faded away. Par felt an aching deep within himself at the look he saw on his brother's face, at the sense of betrayal he knew Coll was feeling. But there was no help for it. There was but one thing Par could say that would change matters, and he was not about to say it.

“I have a plan,” he tried instead. He waited until Coll's eyes lifted. “I know what you think, but I don't propose to take any more chances than I have to.” Coll gave him an incredulous look, but kept still. “The vault sits close to the base of the cliffs, just beneath the walls of the old palace. If I could get into the ravine from the other side, I would have only a short distance to cover. Once I had the Sword in my hands, I would be safe from the Shadowen.”

There were several huge assumptions involved in that last statement, but neither Coll nor Damson chose to raise them. Par felt the sweat bead on his forehead. The difficulty of what he was about to suggest was terrifying.

He swallowed. “That catwalk from the Gatehouse to the old palace would give me a way across.”

Coll threw up his hands. “You plan to go back into the Gatehouse yet a third time?” he exclaimed, exasperated beyond reason.

“All I need is a ruse, a way to distract …”

“Have you lost your mind completely? Another ruse won't do the trick! They'll be looking for you this go-around! They'll spy you out within two seconds of the time you …”

“Coll!” Par's own temper slipped.

“He is right,” Damson Rhee said quietly.

Par wheeled on her, then caught himself. He jerked back toward his brother. Coll dared him to speak, red-faced, but silent. Par shook his head. “Then I'll have to come up with another way.”

Coll looked suddenly weary. “The truth of the matter is, there isn't any other way.”

“There might be one.” It was Damson who spoke, her low voice compelling. “When the armies of the Warlock Lord besieged Tyrsis in the time of Balinor Buckhannah, the city was betrayed twice over from within— once by the front gates, the second time by passageways that ran beneath the city and the cliffs backing the old palace to the cellars beneath. Those passageways might still exist, giving us access to the ravine from the palace side.”

Coll looked away wordlessly, disgust registering on his blocky features. Clearly, he had hoped for better than this from Damson.

Par hesitated, then said carefully, “That all happened more than four hundred years ago. I had forgotten about those passageways completely— even telling the stories as often as I do.” He hesitated again. “Do you know anything about them—where they are, how to get into them, whether they can be traversed anymore?”

Damson shook her head slowly, ignoring the deliberate lift of Coll's eyebrows. She said, “But I know someone who might. If he will talk to us.” Then she met Coll's gaze and held it. There was a sudden softness in her face that surprised Par. “We all have a right to make our own choices,” she said quietly.

Coll's eyes seemed haunted. Par studied his brother momentarily, debating whether to say anything to him, then turned abruptly to Damson. “Will you take me to this person—tonight?”

She stood up then, and both Valemen rose with her. She looked small between them, almost delicate; but Par knew the perception was a false one. She seemed to deliberate before saying, “That depends. You must first promise me something. When you go back into the Pit, however you manage it, you will take Coll and me with you.”

There was a stunned silence. It was hard to tell which of the Valemen was more astonished. Damson gave them a moment to recover, then said to Par, “I'm not giving you any choice in the matter, I'm afraid. I cannot. You would feel compelled to do the right thing and leave us both behind to keep us safe—which would be exactly the wrong thing. You need us with you.”

The she turned to Coll. “And we need to be there, Coll. Don't you see? This won't end, any of it, not Federation oppression or Shadowen evil or the sickness that infects all the Lands, until someone makes it end. Par may have a chance to do that. But we cannot let him try it alone. We have to do whatever we can to help because this is our fight, too. We cannot just sit back and wait for someone else to come along and help us. No one will. If I've learned anything in this life, it's that.”

She waited, looking from one to the other. Coll looked confused, as if he thought there ought to be an obvious alternative to his choices but couldn't for the life of him recognize what it was. He glanced briefly at Par and away again. Par had gone blank, his gaze focused on the floor, his face devoid of expression.

“It is bad enough that I must go,” he said finally.

“Worse than bad,” Coll muttered.

Par ignored him, looking instead at Damson. “What if it turns out that only I can go in?”

Damson came up to him, took his hands in her own and squeezed them. “That won't happen. You know it won't.” She leaned up and kissed him softly. “Are we agreed?”

Par took a deep breath, and a frightening sense of inevitability welled
up inside him. Coll and Damson Rhee—he was risking both their lives by going after the Sword. He was being stubborn beyond reason, intractable to the point of foolhardiness; he was letting himself be caught up in his own self-perceived needs and ambitions. There was every reason to believe that his insistence would kill them all.

Then give it up,
he whispered fiercely to himself.
Just walk away.

But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn't.

“Agreed,” he said.

There was a brief silence. Coll looked up and shrugged. “Agreed,” he echoed quietly.

Damson reached up to touch Par's face, then stepped over to Coll and hugged him. Par was more than a little surprised when his brother hugged her back.