Her eyes left Bremen’s, and she picked up the staff. She held it in her hands as if it were weighted with the responsibility of being who and what she was, and she gazed out across the battleground in despair.
Tears came to her eyes.
Let it end here, she thought.
Then she cast the staff away from her and bent to cradle Kinson.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jerle Shannara saved the life of his queen that day, for banishing the Warlock Lord he banished the Skull Bearer as well, including the one that threatened Preia. Without the power of the Warlock Lord to draw upon, Preia’s assailant simply faded away. Preia recovered from her injuries and returned with Jerle to the Westland. Together, they ruled the Elven nation for many years. They never fought in another battle; the need for them to do so never arose again. Instead, they gave their energies over to learning how to govern in an increasingly complex and demanding world. With Vree Erreden to advise them, they were able to master the craft of statesmanship. They had three children of their own, all daughters, and when Jerle Shannara died, many years later, the eldest of the sons they had adopted from the last of the Ballindarrochs succeeded him. The Shannara line would subsequently multiply and continue afterward for more than two hundred years.
The Sword of Shannara was carried by the king until his death! His son, on succeeding him, carried it afterward for a time, then had it set in a block of Tre-Stone, taken to Paranor, and placed the Druid’s Keep.
Kinson Ravenlock did not die from his wounds, but recovered after weeks of convalescence in the fledgling outpost of Tyrsis. Mareth stayed at his side and cared for him, and when he was well enough they traveled west along the Mermidon to a wooded island in the shadow of the Dragon’s Teeth, where they made their home.
They lived together afterward and eventually married. They farmed, then built a trading center and opened a supply route along the river. Others from the Borderlands moved up to join them, and soon they were in the midst of a thriving community. In time the trading settlement would become the city of Kem.
Mareth never again used her magic in the Druid cause. She turned her skills instead to healing and was widely sought after throughout the Four Lands. She took Kinson’s name when she married him, and there was never afterward any mention of her own. Kinson worried after her for a long time, thinking her magic would break free again, that it would undermine her resolve, but it never did. They had several children, and long after they were gone a child born of their lineage would figure prominently in another battle with the Warlock Lord.
Raybur survived and returned home with the Dwarves to begin the arduous task of rebuilding Culhaven and the other cities the Northland army had destroyed. He took Risca with him and buried the Druid in the newly replanted Gardens of Life, high on a promontory where it was possible to watch the Silver River flow for miles through the forests of the Anar.
The Northland army was virtually annihilated that day on the Streleheim. Those Trolls and Gnomes who had fled earlier from the Valley of Rhenn eventually found their way home. The power of the Warlock Lord was broken, and the Races north and east began the painful process of rebuilding their shattered lives. Both Gnome and Troll nations, tribal by nature, distanced themselves from the other Races, and for a time there was little contact. It would be more than a hundred years before a form of parity returned between victors and vanquished and commerce could be resumed on an equal footing.
Bremen disappeared soon after the final battle. No one saw him go. No one knew where he went. He said goodbye to Mareth, and through her to a still unconscious Kinson. He told the young woman that he would not see either one of them again. There were rumors afterward that he had returned to Paranor to live out the last years of his life. Kinson thought sometimes to go in search of him, to find out the truth of things. But he never did.
Jerle Shannara saw him once more, less than a month after the battle at the Rhenn, late at night for only a few minutes when the old man came to Arborlon to spirit away the Black Elfstone. They spoke of the talisman in whispers, as if the words themselves were too painful to bear, as if even mention of the dark magic might scar their souls.
That was the last time anyone saw him.
The boy Allanon disappeared as well.
Slowly the world returned to the way it had been, and memories of the Warlock Lord began to fade.
Three years passed. On a late summer’s day warm and bright with sunshine, an old man and a boy climbed through the foothills of the Dragon’s Teeth toward the Valley of Shale. Bremen was wizened and bent with age now, and the gray of his hair and beard had gone white. He no longer moved easily, and his eyes were beginning to fail. Allanon was fifteen, taller and much stronger, his shoulders broad, his arms and legs rangy and powerful Already he was approaching manhood, his face beginning to reveal the dark shadow of a beard, his voice deep and rough. By now he was nearly Bremen’s equal in use of the Druid magic. But it was the old man who led and the boy who followed on their last journey together.
For three years Allanon had trained with Bremen. The old man had accepted that the boy would succeed him when he was gone, that Allanon would be the last of the Druids. Tay and Risca were dead, and Mareth had chosen another path. The boy was young, but he was eager to learn and it was clear from the first that he possessed the determination and strength necessary to become what he must. Bremen worked with him every day for those three years, teaching him what he knew of the magic of the Druids and the secrets of their power, giving him the chance to experiment and to discover. Allanon was fierce in this as in all things, single-minded almost to a fault, driven to succeed. He was smart and intuitive, and his prescience did not diminish with his growth. Frequently Allanon saw what was hidden from the old man, his sharp mind grasping possibilities that even the Druid had not recognized. He stayed with Bremen at Paranor, the two of them closeted away from the world, studying the Druid Histories, practicing the lessons that the ancient tomes taught. Bremen used his magic to conceal their presence in the empty fortress from others. No one came to disturb them. No one sought to intrude.
Bremen thought often on the Warlock Lord and the events that had led to his banishing. He spoke of it with the boy, relating to him all of what had transpired—of the destruction of the Druids, of the search for the Black Elfstone, of the forging of the Sword of Shannara, and of the battle for the Rhenn. He imparted the particulars orally to Allanon and then inscribed them on the pages of the Druid Histories. In private he worried for the future. His own strength was failing. His life was coming to an end. He would not see his work completed. That would be left to Allanon and those who succeeded him. But how insufficient that seemed! It was not enough to hope that the boy and his successors would carry on without him. His was the responsibility and his the hand that was needed to carry it out.
So four days earlier he had called the boy to him and told him that his lessons were finished. They would be leaving Paranor for the Hadeshorn to make one last visit to the spirits of the dead.