Terry Brooks - Shannara 1 The Sword of Shannara

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The sun was already sinking into the deep green of the hills to the

west of the valley, the red and gray-pink of its shadows touching the

comers of the land, when Flick Ohmsford began his descent. The bail

stretched out unevenly down the northern slope, winding through the

huge boulders which studded the rugged terrain in massive clumps,

disappearing into the thick forests of the lowlands to reappear in brief

glimpses in small clearings and thinning spaces of woodland. Flick fol-

lowed the familiar trail with his eyes as he trudged wearily along, his

light pack slung loosely over one shoulder. His broad, windburned face

bore a set, placid look, and only the wide gray eyes revealed the rest-

less energy that burned beneath the calm exterior. He was a young

man, though his stocky build and the grizzled brown hair and shaggy

eyebrows made him look much older. He wore the loose-fitting work

clothes of the Vale people and in the pack he carded were several

metal implements that rolled and clanked loosely against one another.

There was a slight chill in the evening air, and Flick clutched the

collar of his open wool shirt closer to his neck. His journey ahead lay

through forests and rolling flatlands, the latter not yet visible to him

a hundred times, the young man noticed immediately the unusual still-

ness that seemed to have captivated the entire valley this evening. The

familiar buzzing and chirping of insects normally present in the quiet of

the night, the cries of the birds that awoke with the setting of the sun

to fly in search of food-all were missing. Flick listened intently for

some sound of life, but his keen ears could detect nothing. He shook

his head uneasily. The deep silence was unsettling, particularly in view

of the rumors of a frightening black-winged creature sighted in the

night skies north of the valley only days earlier.

He forced himself to whistle and turned his thoughts back to his

day's work in the country just to the north of the Vale, where outlying

families farmed and tended domestic livestock: He traveled to their

homes every week, supplying various items that they required and

bringing bits of news on the happenings of the Vale and occasionally the

distant cities of the deep Southland. Few people knew the surrounding

countryside as well as he did, and fewer still cared to travel beyond

the comparative safety of their homes in the valley. Men were more

inclined to remain in isolated communities these days and let the rest

A low-hanging branch brushing against his head caused Flick to start

suddenly and leap to one side. In chagrin, he straightened himself and

glared back at the leafy obstacle before continuing his journey at a

slightly quicker pace. He was deep in the lowland forests now and only

slivers of moonlight were able to find their way through the thick

boughs overhead to light the winding path dimly. It was so dark that

Flick was having trouble finding the trail, and as he studied the lay of

the land ahead, he again found himself conscious of the heavy silence.

It was as if all life had been suddenly extinguished, and he alone re-

mained to find his way out of this forest tomb. Again he recalled the

strange rumors. He felt a bit anxious in spite of himself and glanced

worriedly around. But nothing stirred on the trail ahead nor moved in

the trees about him, and he felt embarrassingly relieved.

Pausing momentarily in a moonlit clearing, he gazed at the fullness

of the night sky before passing abruptly into the trees beyond. He

walked slowly, picking his way along the winding path that had narrowed

beyond the clearing and how seemed to disappear into a wall of trees

and bushes ahead. He knew that it was merely an illusion, but found

that seemed to rise up suddenly, detaching itself from a great oak tree

on his left and moving swiftly toward the path to intercept him. The

dark figure was almost on top of the Vale man before Flick sensed its

presence looming up before him like a great, black stone which threat-

ened to crush his smaller being. With a startled cry of fear he leaped

aside, his pack falling to the path with a crash of metal, and his left

hand whipped out the long thin dagger at his waist. Even as he crouched

to defend himself, he was stayed by a commanding arm raised above

the figure before him and a strong, yet reassuring voice that spoke out

quickly.

"Wait a moment, friend. I'm no enemy and have no wish to harm you.

I merely seek directions and would be grateful if you could show me

the proper path."

Flick relaxed his guard a bit and tried to peer into the blackness of

the figure before him in an effort to discover some semblance of a

human being. He could see nothing, however, and he moved to the left

with cautious steps in an attempt to catch the features of the dark

figure in the tree-shadowed moonlight.

put his own back to the light. Slowly the pale moonlight began to etch

out the stranger's features in vague lines and blue shadows. For a long

moment the two faced one another in silence, each studying the other,

Flick in an effort to decide what it was he faced, the stranger in quiet

anticipation.

Then suddenly the huge figure lunged with terrible swiftness, his

powerful hands seizing the Valeman's wrists, and Flick was lifted

abruptly off the solid earth and held high, his knife dropping from

nerveless fingers as the deep voice laughed mockingly up at him.

"Well, well, my young friend! What are you going to do now, I won-

der? I could cut your heart out on the spot and leave you for the

wolves if I chose, couldn't I?"

Flick struggled violently to free himself, terror numbing his mind to

any thought but that of escape. He had no idea what manner of crea-

ture had subdued him, but it was far more powerful than any normal

man and apparently prepared to dispatch Flick quickly. Then abruptly,

his captor held him out at arm's length, and the mocking voice became

icy cold with displeasure.

The strong voice trailed off and the tone of displeasure disap-

peared as

the former hint of mockery returned with a short laugh.

"Besides," the figure rumbled as the fingers released their iron grip

and

Flick slipped to the path, "I may be a better friend than you real-

ize."

The figure moved back a step as Flick straightened himself, rubbing

his

wrists carefully to restore the circulation to his numbed hands. He

wanted to

run, but was certain that the stranger would catch him again and

this time

finish him without further thought. He leaned over cautiously and

picked up the

fallen dagger, returning it to his belt.

Flick could see the fellow more dearly now, and a quick scrutiny of

him

flowing black cloak with a loose cowl pulled close about his head. The

darkened

face was long and deeply lined, giving it a craggy appearance. The

eyes were

deep-set and almost completely hidden from view by shaggy eye-

brows that knotted

fiercely over a long flat ruse. A short, black beard outlined a wide

mouth that

was lust a line on the face-a line that never seemed to move. The

overall

appearance was frightening, all blackness and size, and Flick had to

fight down

the urge building within him to make a break for the forest's edge.

He looked

straight into the deep, hard eyes of the stranger, though not with-

out some

difficulty, and managed a weak smile.

"I thought you were a thief," he mumbled hesitantly.

Flick hesitated and then continued in a slightly braver tone of voice.

"My father is Curzad Ohmsford. He manages an inn in Shady Vale a

mile or

two from here. You could find lodging and food there."

"Ah, Shady Vale," the stranger exclaimed suddenly. "Yes, that is

where I

am going." He paused as if reflecting on his own words. Flick

watched him

cautiously as he rubbed his craggy face with crooked fingers and

looked beyond

the forest's edge to the rolling grasslands of the valley. lie was still

looking

away when he spoke again.

"You . . . have a brother."

It was not a question; it was a simple statement of fact. It was spo-

ken so

distantly and calmly, as if the tall stranger were not at all inter-

ested in any

have

a brother somewhere?"

Flick nodded dumbly, unable to comprehend what it was that the

other was

trying to say and wondering vaguely how much he knew about Shady

Vale. The

stranger was looking questioningly at him, evidently waiting to be

guided to the

promised food and lodging. Flick quickly turned away to find his

hastily

discarded pack, picked it up and slung it over his shoulder, looking

back at the

figure towering over him.

"The path is this way." He pointed, and the two began walking.

They passed out of the deep forest and entered rolling, gentle hills

which

they would follow to the hamlet of Shady Vale at the far end of the

valley. Out

grassy hills and distinguishable only by occasional rain-washed ruts

and fiat,

hard patches of earth breaking through the heavy grass. The wind

had gathered

strength and rushed at the two men with quick gusts that whipped

at their

clothing as they walked, forcing them to bow their heads slightly to

shield.their eyes. Neither spoke a word as they proceeded, each con-

centrating on the

lay of the land beyond, as new hills and small depressions appeared

with the

passing of each traveled knoll. Except for the rushing of the wind,

the night

remained silent. Flick listened intently, and once he thought he

heard a sharp

cry far to the north, but an instant later it was gone, and he did not

hear it

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摘要：

Thesunwasalreadysinkingintothedeepgreenofthehillstothewestofthevalley,theredandgray-pinkofitsshadowstouchingthecomersoftheland,whenFlickOhmsfordbeganhisdescent.Thebailstretchedoutunevenlydownthenorthernslope,windingthroughthehugeboulderswhichstuddedtheruggedterraininmassiveclumps,disappearingintothe...

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Terry Brooks - Shannara 1 The Sword of Shannara

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