Paladins of Shannara: The Black Irix (Short Story) by Terry Brooks Read Free Book Online

promised himself, he would to do the same.
    It would be almost three years before that happened, and when it did Flick would find
     himself struggling to keep this promise.
    But that’s a story for another time.

Can’t wait for the thrilling conclusion to The Dark Legacy of Shannara?
Well, fear not; salvation will be at hand! Look for:
    WITCH WRAITH
Book Three of The Dark Legacy of Shannara
    Coming in summer 2013.
    Here is a glimpse of what is still to come:
    Railing Ohmsford stood alone at the bow of the
Quickening
and looked out at the starlit darkness. They were anchored for the night, the airship
     nestled in a copse of fir and hemlock, the sway of the ship in the soft breezes barely
     noticeable. It was well after midnight, and he should have been sleeping with the
     others. But sleep did not come easily these days, and when it did come it was haunted
     and left him racked with a deep sense of unease. Better to stay awake where he could
     try to do something to control his thoughts, as dark as they were. Better to face
     his demons standing up, prepared to fight them off and hold them at bay.
    He could not banish them, of course. He could not send them back to the empty places
     where they sometimes went to hide, although increasingly less so these days.
    Not that it mattered. He knew their faces. He knew their names.
    Fear: that he might not be able to find Grianne Ohmsford and bring her back to face
     the Straken Lord because she was dead. Or because she was alive but could not be persuaded
     to leave the sanctuary in which she had placed herself, unwilling to risk a confrontation
     of the sort he was proposing. Or simply because she was Grianne and she had never
     been predictable.
    Doubt: that he was doing the right thing in making this journey into the back of beyond
     because of a hope that had so little chance of succeeding. He should have been seeking
     his brother in the Forbidding, hunting for him there and bringing him out again in
     spite of the odds. Time was running out with every passing hour, and his brother was
     alone and had no one to help him and no way of knowing if help would ever come. Redden
     depended on him, and it must seem to his brother as if Railing had abandoned him.
    Shame: that he was deceiving his companions on this quest, that he was keeping information
     from them that might dissuade them from continuing. The King of the Silver River had
     warned him that nothing would happen as he imagined, that there would be results he
     had not foreseen. The Faerie creature had told him he should turn back and travel
     instead into the Forbidding—the one place he knew he could never enter, so great was
     his terror at the prospect.
    He felt himself to be a coward and a deceiver. He was consumed by his doubts and his
     shame, and it was growing increasingly harder not to reveal this to the others. He
     tried to keep it hidden, masked by his false words and acts, but it was eating at
     him. Destroying him.
    He was crying again, silently and all at once, tears leaking from his eyes and despair
     filling his heart.
    He left the vessel’s bow and walked back toward the stern, moving quietly, trying
     not to disturb the sleepers. Some were on deck, wrapped in blankets; some were below,
     rolled into hammocks. All slept save two of the Rover crew, who kept watch fore and
     aft. He saw the one at the stern and turned aside before he reached the man to take
     up a position near the starboard railing. Small creaks sounded as ropes and lines
     pulled taut and released again, and snores rose out of the shadows. He liked this
     quiet time, this confluence of shadows and sleep. Everything was at peace.
    He wished he could be as well.
    It had only been two days now since they had set out from the Rainbow Lake, even though
     it felt more like twenty. They had debated among themselves that morning, on waking,
     as to the best route for their journey. The Charnals were unknown country to all but
     Skint. Even