Heritage of Shannara 1 – The Scions of Shannara by Brooks, Terry

to no one. Why, then, were they being systematically ground

down? It would have made better sense to heal the wounds that

the war had opened than to throw salt into them. It almost seemed

as if the Dwarves were being intentionally provoked, as if a

cause for them to resist was being provided. Why would that

be?

‘ ‘Perhaps the Federation wants an excuse to exterminate them

altogether,” Coil suggested blackly when Par asked his opinion

that night after dinner.

“You mean you think the Federation believes the Dwarves

are of no further use, even in the mines?” Par was incredulous.

‘ ‘Or that they’re too much trouble to supervise or too dangerous,

so they ought to simply be done away with? The entire nation?”

Coil’s blocky face was impassive. “I mean, I know what I’ve

seen here-what we’ve both seen. It seems pretty clear to me

what’s happening!”

Par wasn’t so sure. He let the matter drop because for the

moment he didn’t have any better answer. But he promised him-

self that one day he would.

He slept poorly that night and was already awake when

Granny Elise slipped into the sleeping room before dawn to

whisper that Teel had come for them. He rose quickly and

dragged the covers from Coil and Morgan. They dressed,

strapped on their weapons and went down the hall to the kitchen

where Teel was waiting, a shadow by the door, masked and

wrapped in a drab forest cloak that gave her the look of a beggar.

Granny Elise gave them hot tea and cakes and kissed each of

them. Auntie Jilt warned them sternly to keep safe from what-

ever dangers might lie in wait for them, and Teel led them out

into the night.

It was dark still, the dawn not yet even a small glimmer in

the distant trees, and they slipped silently through the sleeping

village, four ghosts in search of a haunt. The morning air was

chill, and they could see their breath cloud the air before them

in small puffs. Teel took them down back pathways and through

dense groves of trees and gatherings of brush, keeping to the

shadows, staying away from the roads and lights. They moved

north out of the village without seeing anyone. When they

reached the Silver River, Teel took them downstream to a shal-

lows, avoiding the bridges. They crossed water like ice as it

lapped at their legs. They were barely into the trees again when

StefF appeared out of the shadows to join them. He wore a brace

of long knives at his waist, and the giant mace was slung across

his back. He said nothing, taking the lead from Teel and guiding

them ahead. A few faint streaks of daylight appeared in the east,

and the sky began to brighten. The stars winked out and the

moon disappeared. Frost glimmered on leaves and grasses like

scattered bits of crystal.

A bit farther on, they reached a clearing dominated by a mas-

sive old willow, and Steff brought them to a halt. Backpacks,

rolled blankets, foul-weather gear, cooking implements, water

bags, and forest cloaks for each of them were concealed in an

old hollow tree trunk that had fallen into the brush. They

strapped everything in place without speaking and were off

again.

They walked the remainder of the day at a leisurely pace,

bearing directly north. There was little discussion, none what-

soever as to where they were going. Steff offered no explanation,

and neither the Valemen nor the Highlander were inclined to

ask. When the Dwarf was ready to tell them, he would. The day

passed quickly and by midaftemoon they had reached the foot-

hills south of the Wolfsktaag. They continued on for what was

perhaps another hour, following the forestline upward to where

it began to thin before the wall of the mountains, then StefF

called a halt in a pine-sheltered clearing close to a small stream

that trickled down out of the rocks. He led them over to a fallen

log and seated himself comfortably, facing them.

“If the rumors are to be believed-and in this case, rumors

are all we have-Walker Boh will be found in Darklin Reach.

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