were too tiny to walk. You probably don't remember me.»
«My father does indeed speak of you all the time,' Pen agreed. «My mother, as well.»
«They were good friends to me on our voyage west, Pen. If not for your father's help, I would not have returned.» He gestured toward the girl. «This is my niece, Khyber, my brother's daughter. She visits from Arborlon.»
«Hello again, Khyber.» Tagwen nodded to her. «You have grown up.»
«Not all that far,' she replied, her eyes staying on Pen. «That was a spectacular landing,' she said. «I didn't think you were going to make it down.»
Tagwen went crimson again, the disapproving frown returning to his bluff features, so Pen jumped down from the decking with a mumbled thanks and quickly added, «Tagwen's right. I was lucky.»
«I think it was more than that,' she said. «How long have you been flying airships?»
«Enough about airships!» the Dwarf huffed, noticing for the first time the debris in his beard and brushing it clean with furious strokes. «We have other things to talk about.» He lowered his voice. «Prince Ahren, can we go somewhere more private?»
Elves were gathered all around by then, come out of the trees to take a closer look at the airship and its occupants. Children were already scurrying around the pontoons and under the decking, making small excited noises amid squeals of delight. A few of the braver ones were even trying to climb aboard while their parents pulled them back.
«My cottage is just up the road, Tagwen,' Ahren Elessedil said. «We can clean you up and give you something to eat and drink. Khyber makes the best mango black tea in the Westland, a secret she won't share even with me.» He gave the girl a wink. «Leave the skiff. She'll be all right where she is. She's an object of curiosity, but the villagers won't harm her.»
«I don't care whether they harm her or not!» Tagwen groused. «I've had more than enough of her for one day, thanks very much!»
They walked back through the village, Ahren Elessedil leading with Tagwen at his side, Pen following with Khyber. No one said very much, respecting the Dwarf's wishes that they wait until they were in private to talk. Pen was thinking that even though Tagwen had insisted the Elven Prince–turned–Druid could help them in their search for the Ard Rhys, Ahren didn't look up to it. If anything, he looked too soft and frail for the physical demands of such an endeavor. A strong wind might blow him away, the boy thought. But looks were misleading. Ahren Elessedil had survived the voyage of the Jerk Shannara when more than twenty others had not, and he wasn't a Druid then. Tagwen had warned Pen not to judge Ahren too quickly, that what was visible on the surface was not necessarily representative of the man inside. Pen hoped he was right.
«Your father is Bek Ohmsford?» Khyber Elessedil asked him.
He nodded. «Do you know the story from your uncle?»
«All of it. It is the most famous story of this generation. My family doesn't much care for it because they hold your aunt responsible for my grandfather's assassination and Uncle Ahren responsible for helping her escape them and found the new Druid order at Paranor. My brother is the worst. I don't agree with any of them. That's why I'm here. I am training with my uncle to be a Druid. In secret.»
«Your family doesn't know?»
She shook her head. «They think I come here only to visit, so they leave me alone. They don't know the truth.»
He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice. «My parents don't know where I am. They think I am still back in Patch Run.» «What will they do when they find out you're not?» He smiled. «Track me down. They can do it, too. But they won't find out for a while. They're off in the Anar on an expedition, guiding customers hunting and fishing. They won't get back for weeks. So they won't know.»
She smiled back. «Looks like we have something in common.» They reached Ahren's cottage, where the Druid provided Pen and Tagwen with fresh clothes, a bucket of water, and cloths with which to wash up. The pair did so, and returned to find that Khyber had prepared the promised black tea and set out some cheese and bread, as well. Since neither had eaten since early morning, when they had set out from somewhere below the Mermidon, they devoured the food hungrily and drank down the entire pot of tea.
When they were finished, Tagwen rocked back in his seat, glanced across the table at Ahren to be certain he was listening, and said, «I'll tell you why we've come now, but it might not be something you want to share with Khyber.» He gave her a pointed look. «No offense is meant, young lady, but the truth is you might be better off not knowing what we have to say. There is some danger involved.»
The girl looked at her uncle, who shrugged. «I am not much good at keeping secrets from Khyber,' he said, smiling. «In any case, she would have it out of me before the sun was down. If you don't mind, I'll let her stay to hear your story.»
Tagwen nodded. «She can quit listening when she decides she doesn't want to hear any more. I'll leave it at that.»
Leaning forward, arms resting on the tabletop, bearded face scrunched up so that he looked as if he was about to undertake the most difficult task of his life, he began his story. He related the events surrounding the disappearance of the Ard Rhys, the dismissal of Kermadec and his Rock Trolls, his own decision to seek help from Grianne's brother, his arrival at Patch Run and meeting with Pen, and their subsequent flight from Terek Molt and the crew of the Druid airship Galaphile. He ended with the unexpected appearance of the King of the Silver River, come out of nowhere to save them from Terek Molt and to tell them of what they must do.
The longer Tagwen's story went on, the more ridiculous it sounded to Pen and the more foolish he felt for coming even that far. What the King of the Silver River expected him to do—even if you accepted that it really was the King of the Silver River and not some malevolent shade—was patently impossible. For a boy with no practical magic to go alone into the Forbidding was so arrogant and pigheaded that no right–thinking person would even consider it. Pen didn't have to know the particulars of what lay behind the Faerie magic that closed away the creatures of the Forbidding to know that he had virtually no chance of surviving a journey inside. He might be able to find and secure the darkwand from the tanequil—though that was debatable, as well—but he saw no way he could reasonably expect to rescue the Ard Rhys once he had done so.
By the time Tagwen had concluded, Pen could not bring himself to look at Ahren Elessedil. He imagined himself in the other's shoes, thinking that he would dismiss this whole business in a heartbeat. The Dwarf had been so certain Ahren would help them, but looking at it now, Pen couldn't see any reason why.
He glanced over at the Druid in spite of himself and found the other staring back.
«This is a terrible responsibility you have been given, Penderrin,' Ahren Elessedil said quietly. «I am surprised you found the courage to accept it.»
Pen stared. It was not what he had expected the Druid to say.
«I was just thinking that it might have been a good idea to think it through a little more.»
«Are you worried that you acted in haste? Or that you might have been tricked in some way because it all sounds so incredible?» The Elf nodded. «I remember feeling that way more than once during my time on the Jerle Shannara. I don't think you can avoid such feelings. Maybe second–guessing what you choose to do in difficult situations is necessary if you are to find peace of mind. Blind acceptance of what you believe to be the dictates of fate and circumstance is dangerous.»
«Do you think it really was the King of the Silver River?» Pen asked impulsively.
The Druid pursed his lips. «Your father met him years ago, on his way to Arborlon. He told me of the meeting later; he described it. Not so much how the King of the Silver River looked—that wouldn't matter anyway because he can change his appearance. He described how it happened and how it made him feel. Your experience sounds as if it was the same. Yes, Pen, I think it was him.»
He glanced at Khyber, who was staring at Pen with rapt attention. «Khyber believes it was, don't you, Khyber?»
She nodded at once. «I believe it all. But what are we going to do about it, Uncle Ahren? Sorry, what are you going to do about it?» she corrected herself.
«I told the boy to come here,' Tagwen confessed, straightening. «It's my fault we have involved you in this. But I know how you feel about the Ard Rhys, and I couldn't think of anyone else to turn to. I don't think we can do this on our own. We managed to get this far on grit and luck.» He grimaced. «I can't imagine how we will get all the way into the Charnals alone.»
