First King of Shannara by Terry Brooks Read Free Book Online Page B

gather what you needed for your journey,” Caerid Lock observed. “There was nothing said about what those needs might be. I think a short visit would be in order.”
    Bremen smiled. “I will never forget your efforts on my behalf, Caerid. Never.”
    The other man gave a short wave of dismissal. “They were nothing, Bremen. Come.”
    They continued along the stairs to a back passageway that took them through several doors and down another flight of stairs. All the time, Bremen was thinking. He had given his warning, for better or worse. It would be ignored by most, but those who would harken to it must be given what chance there was to survive the foolishness of the others. In addition, some effort must be made to protect the Keep. There was not a great deal he could do in the face of the Warlock Lord’s power, but he must do what little he could. He would begin with Kahle Rese, his oldest and most trusted friend—even though he knew that once again he faced almost certain disappointment in his intended effort.
    When they reached the doorway that led into the main hall, just a short distance from the libraries where Kahle spent his days, Bremen turned again to Caerid.
    â€œWill you do me one more favor?” he asked the Elf. “Will you summon Risca and Tay Trefenwyd to speak with me? Have them wait in the passageway until I finish my visit with Kahle. I will meet them there. I give you my word I will go nowhere else and do nothing to violate the terms of my visit.”
    Caerid looked away. “Your word is not necessary, Bremen. It never has been. Have your visit with Kahle. I’ll bring the other two and meet you here.”
    He turned and went back up the stairs into the gloom. Bremen thought how lucky he was to be able to count Caerid among his friends. He remembered Caerid as a young man, still learning his craft, but intense and steady even then. Caerid had come from Arborlon and stayed on past his initial appointment, committed to the Druid cause. It was rare for a non-Druid to take such an interest. He wondered if Caerid would do so again, if given the chance to live his life over.
    He stepped through the door into the corridor beyond and turned right. The hall was arched and framed with great wooden beams that gleamed with polish and wax. Tapestries and paintings hung from the castle walls. Pieces of ancient furniture and old armor occupied protected space in small alcoves, lit by slow-burning candles. Age and time were captured within these walls where nothing changed but the hours of the day and the passing of the seasons. There was a sense of permanence to Paranor, the oldest and strongest fortress in the Four Lands, the guardian of its givers of knowledge, the keeper of its most precious artifacts and tomes. What few advancements had been made coming out of the wilderness of the Great Wars had originated here. Now it was all in danger of ending, of being forever lost, and only he seemed aware of it.
    He reached the library doors, opened them quietly, and stepped inside. The room was small for a library, but it was crammed with books. There were few books to be found since the destruction of the old world, and most of those had been compiled by the Druids in the last two hundred years, painstakingly recorded by hand from the memories and observations of the handful of men and women who still remembered. Almost all were stored here, in this room and the next, and Kahle Rese was the Druid responsible for their safekeeping. All had value, but none more so than the Druid Histories, the books that chronicled the results of the Council’s efforts to recover the lost knowledge of science and magic from the centuries before the Great Wars, of its attempts at uncovering the secrets of power that had given the old world the greatest of its advancements, and of its detailing of all possibilities however remote concerning devices and formulas, talismans and conjuring, reasoning