{"product_id":"the-druid-of-shannara-isbn-9780345375599","title":"The Druid of Shannara","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe second volume of The Heritage of Shannara, which continues one of the most popular fantasy series of all time\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAncient evil forces remain in control of the Four Lands. To restore the Kepp of the Druid Allanon, Walker Boh sets out on a journey to find the black Elfstone. After narrowly escaping death, he learns that the Elfstone lies in the hands of the Stone King. Now Walker Boh must venture into perilous, unknown lands with a strange band of fellow travelers that includes Morgan Leah, whose once-magic sword has been broken; Quickening, the daughter of the ancient King; and Pe Ell, an assassin who hatches his own dark, sinister plot. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThus continues the enthralling Shannara epic, a spellbinding tale of adventure, magic, and myth…\"If Harry Potter has given you a thirst for fantasy and you have not discovered the magic of Terry Brooks, you are in for a treat.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e--Rocky Mountain News\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"If you were delighted and entranced by Michael Ende's \u003ci\u003eThe Never Ending Story\u003c\/i\u003e, you will definitely want to sample one of more of Terry Brooks's books.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e--Santa Cruz Sentinel\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eTerry Brooks\u003c\/b\u003e has thrilled readers for decades with his powers of imagination and storytelling. He is the author of more than thirty books, most of which have been \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestsellers. He lives with his wife, Judine, in the Pacific Northwest.The King of the Silver River stood at the edge of the Gardens that had been his domain since the\u003cbr\u003edawn of the age of faerie and looked out over the world of mortal men. What he saw left him sad and\u003cbr\u003ediscouraged. Everywhere the land sickened and died, rich black earth turning to dust, grassy plains\u003cbr\u003ewithering, forests becoming huge stands of deadwood, and lakes and rivers either stagnating or\u003cbr\u003edrying away. Everywhere the creatures who lived upon the land sickened\u003cbr\u003eand died as well, unable to sustain themselves as the nourishment they\u003cbr\u003erelied upon grew poisoned. Even the air had begun to turn foul.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd all the while, the King of the Silver River thought, the Shadowen\u003cbr\u003egrow stronger.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis fingers reached out to brush the crimson petals of the cyclamen that\u003cbr\u003egrew thick about his feet. Forsythia clustered just beyond, dogwood and\u003cbr\u003echerry farther back, fuchsia and hibiscus, rhododendrons and dahlias,\u003cbr\u003ebeds of iris, azaleas, daffodils, roses, and a hundred other varieties\u003cbr\u003eof flowers and flowering plants that were always in bloom, a profusion\u003cbr\u003eof colors that stretched away into the distance until lost from sight.\u003cbr\u003eThere were animals to be seen as well, both large and small, creatures\u003cbr\u003ewhose evolution could be traced back to that distant time when all\u003cbr\u003ethings lived in harmony and peace.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn the present world, the world of the Four Lands and the Races that had\u003cbr\u003eevolved out of the chaos and destruction of the Great Wars, that time\u003cbr\u003ewas all but forgotten. The King of the Silver River was its sole\u003cbr\u003eremnant. He had been alive when the world was new and its first\u003cbr\u003ecreatures were just being born. He had been young then, and there had\u003cbr\u003ebeen many like him. Now he was old and he was the last of his kind.\u003cbr\u003eEverything that had been, save for the Gardens in which he lived, had\u003cbr\u003epassed away. The Gardens alone survived, changeless, sustained by the\u003cbr\u003emagic of faerie. The Word had given the Gardens to the King of the\u003cbr\u003eSilver River and told him to tend them, to keep them as a reminder of\u003cbr\u003ewhat had once been and what might one day be again. The world without\u003cbr\u003ewould evolve as it must, but the Gardens would remain forever the same.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEven so, they were shrinking. It was not so much physical as spiritual.\u003cbr\u003eThe boundaries of the Gardens were fixed and unalterable, for the\u003cbr\u003eGardens existed in a plane of being unaffected by changes in the world\u003cbr\u003eof mortal men. The Gardens were a presence rather than a place. Yet that\u003cbr\u003epresence was diminished by the sickening of the world to which it was\u003cbr\u003etied, for the work of the Gardens and their tender was to keep that\u003cbr\u003eworld strong. As the Four Lands grew poisoned, the work became harder,\u003cbr\u003ethe effects of that work grew shorter, and the boundaries of human\u003cbr\u003ebelief and trust in its existence--always somewhat marginalaO\"began to\u003cbr\u003efail altogether.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe King of the Silver River grieved that this should be. He did not\u003cbr\u003egrieve for himself; he was beyond that. He grieved for the people of the\u003cbr\u003eFour Lands, the mortal men and women for whom the magic of faerie was in\u003cbr\u003edanger of being lost forever. The Gardens had been their haven in the\u003cbr\u003eland of the Silver River for centuries, and he had been the spirit\u003cbr\u003efriend who protected its people. He had watched over them, had given\u003cbr\u003ethem a sense of peace and well-being that transcended physical\u003cbr\u003eboundaries, and gave promise that benevolence and goodwill were still\u003cbr\u003eaccessible in some corners of the world to all. Now that was ended. Now\u003cbr\u003ehe could protect no one. The evil of the Shadowen, the poison they had\u003cbr\u003einflicted upon the Four Lands, had eroded his own strength until he was\u003cbr\u003evirtually sealed within his Gardens, powerless to go to the aid of those\u003cbr\u003ehe had worked so long to protect.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe stared out into the ruin of the world for a time as his despair\u003cbr\u003eworked its relentless will on him. Memories played hide-and-seek in his\u003cbr\u003emind. The Druids had protected the Four Lands once. But the Druids were\u003cbr\u003egone. A handful of descendents of the Elven house of Shannara had been\u003cbr\u003echampions of the Races for generations, wielding the remnants of the\u003cbr\u003emagic of faerie. But they were all dead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe forced his despair away, replacing it with hope. The Druids could\u003cbr\u003ecome again. And there were new generations of the old house of Shannara.\u003cbr\u003eThe King of the Silver River knew most of what was happening in the Four\u003cbr\u003eLands even if he could not go out into them. Allanon's shade had\u003cbr\u003esummoned a scattering of Shannara children to recover the lost magic,\u003cbr\u003eand perhaps they yet would if they could survive long enough to find a\u003cbr\u003emeans to do so. But all of them had been placed in extreme peril. All\u003cbr\u003ewere in danger of dying, threatened in the east, south, and west by the\u003cbr\u003eShadowen and in the north by Uhl Belk, the Stone King.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe old eyes closed momentarily. He knew what was needed to save the\u003cbr\u003eShannara childrenaO\"an act of magic, one so powerful and intricate that\u003cbr\u003enothing could prevent it from succeeding, one that would transcend the\u003cbr\u003ebarriers that their enemies had created, that would break past the\u003cbr\u003escreen of deceit and lies that hid everything from the four on whom so\u003cbr\u003emuch depended.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYes, four, not three. Even Allanon did not understand the whole of what\u003cbr\u003ewas meant to be.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe turned and made his way back toward the center of his refuge. He let\u003cbr\u003ethe songs of the birds, the fragrances of the flowers, and the warmth of\u003cbr\u003ethe air soothe him as he walked and he drew in through his senses the\u003cbr\u003ecolor and taste and feel of all that lay about him. There was virtually\u003cbr\u003enothing that he could not do within his Gardens. Yet his magic was\u003cbr\u003eneeded without. He knew what was required. In preparation he took the\u003cbr\u003eform of the old man that showed himself occasionally to the world\u003cbr\u003ebeyond. His gait became an unsteady shamble, his breathing wheezed, his\u003cbr\u003eeyes dimmed, and his body ached with the feelings of life fading. The\u003cbr\u003ebirdsong stopped, and the small animals that had crowded close edged\u003cbr\u003equickly away. He forced himself to separate from everything he had\u003cbr\u003eevolved into, receding into what he might have been, needing momentarily\u003cbr\u003eto feel human mortality in order to know better how to give that part of\u003cbr\u003ehimself that was needed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen he reached the heart of his domain, he stopped. There was a pond of\u003cbr\u003eclearest water fed by a small stream. A unicorn drank from it. The earth\u003cbr\u003ethat cradled the pond was dark and rich. Tiny, delicate flowers that had\u003cbr\u003eno name grew at the water's edge; they were the color of new snow.\u003cbr\u003eA small, intricately formed tree lifted out of a scattering of violet\u003cbr\u003egrasses at the pond's far end, its delicate green leaves laced with\u003cbr\u003ered. From a pair of massive rocks, streaks of colored ore shimmered\u003cbr\u003ebrightly in the sunshine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe King of the Silver River stood without moving in the presence of the\u003cbr\u003elife that surrounded him and willed himself to become one with it. When\u003cbr\u003ehe had done so, when everything had threaded itself through the human\u003cbr\u003eform he had taken as if joined by bits and pieces of invisible lacing,\u003cbr\u003ehe reached out to gather it all in. His hands, wrinkled human skin and\u003cbr\u003ebrittle bones, lifted and summoned his magic, and the feelings of age\u003cbr\u003eand time that were the reminders of mortal existence disappeared.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe little tree came to him first, uprooted, transported, and set down\u003cbr\u003ebefore him, the framework of bones on which he would build. Slowly it\u003cbr\u003ebent to take the shape he desired, leaves folding close against the\u003cbr\u003ebranches, wrapping and sealing away. The earth came next, handfuls\u003cbr\u003elifted by invisible scoops to place against the tree, padding and\u003cbr\u003edefining. Then came the ores for muscle, the waters for fluids, and the\u003cbr\u003epetals of the tiny flowers for skin. He gathered silk from the\u003cbr\u003eunicorn's mane for hair and black pearls for eyes. The magic\u003cbr\u003etwisted and wove, and slowly his creation took form.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen he was finished, the girl who stood before him was perfect in every\u003cbr\u003eway but one. She was not yet alive.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe cast about momentarily, then selected the dove. He took it out of the\u003cbr\u003eair and placed it still living inside the girlaO(TM)s breast where it\u003cbr\u003ebecame her heart. Quickly he moved forward to embrace her and breathed\u003cbr\u003ehis own life into her. Then he stepped back to wait.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe girl's breast rose and fell, and her limbs twitched. Her eyes\u003cbr\u003efluttered open, coal black as they peered out from her delicate white\u003cbr\u003efeatures. She was small boned and finely wrought like a piece of paper\u003cbr\u003eart smoothed and shaped so that the edges and corners were replaced by\u003cbr\u003ecurves. Her hair was so white it seemed silver; there was a glitter to\u003cbr\u003eit that suggested the presence of that precious metal.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Who am I?\" she asked in a soft, lilting voice that whispered of\u003cbr\u003etiny streams and small night sounds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You are my daughter,\" the King of the Silver River answered,\u003cbr\u003ediscovering within himself the stirring of feelings he had thought long\u003cbr\u003esince lost.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe did not bother telling her that she was an elemental, an earth child\u003cbr\u003ecreated of his magic. She could sense what she was from the instincts\u003cbr\u003ewith which he had endowed her. No other explanation was needed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe took a tentative step forward, then another. Finding that she could\u003cbr\u003ewalk, she began to move more quickly, testing her abilities in various\u003cbr\u003eways as she circled her father, glancing cautiously, shyly at the old\u003cbr\u003eman as she went. She looked around curiously, taking in the sights,\u003cbr\u003esmells, sounds, and tastes of the Gardens, discovering in them a kinship\u003cbr\u003ethat she could not immediately explain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Are these Gardens my mother?\" she asked suddenly, and he told her\u003cbr\u003ethey were. aOoeAm I a part of you both?aO? she asked, and he told her\u003cbr\u003eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Come with me,\" he said gently.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTogether, they walked through the Gardens, exploring in the manner of a\u003cbr\u003eparent and child, looking into flowers, watching for the quick movement\u003cbr\u003eof birds and animals, studying the vast, intricate designs of the\u003cbr\u003etangled undergrowth, the complex layers of rock and earth, and the\u003cbr\u003epatterns woven by the threads of the Gardens' existence. She was\u003cbr\u003ebright and quick, interested in everything, respectful of life, caring.\u003cbr\u003eHe was pleased with what he saw; he found that he had made her well.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter a time, he began to show her something of the magic. He\u003cbr\u003edemonstrated his own first, only the smallest bits and pieces of it so\u003cbr\u003eas not to overwhelm her. Then he let her test her own against it. She\u003cbr\u003ewas surprised to learn that she possessed it, even more surprised to\u003cbr\u003ediscover what it could do. But she was not hesitant about using it. She\u003cbr\u003ewas eager.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You have a name,\" he told her. \"Would you like to know what it\u003cbr\u003eis?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes,\" she answered, and stood looking at him alertly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Your name is Quickening.\" He paused. \"Do you understand why?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe thought a moment. \"Yes,\" she answered again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe led her to an ancient hickory whose bark peeled back in great, shaggy\u003cbr\u003estrips from its trunk. The breezes cooled there, smelling of jasmine and\u003cbr\u003ebegonia, and the grass was soft as they sat together. A griffin wandered\u003cbr\u003eover through the tall grasses and nuzzled the girlaO(TM)s hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Quickening,\" the King of the Silver River said. \"There is\u003cbr\u003esomething you must do.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSlowly, carefully he explained to her that she must leave the Gardens\u003cbr\u003eand go out into the world of men. He told her where it was that she must\u003cbr\u003ego and what it was that she must do. He talked of the Dark Uncle, the\u003cbr\u003eHighlander, and the nameless other, of the Shadowen, of Uhl Belk and\u003cbr\u003eEldwist, and of the Black Elfstone. As he spoke to her, revealing the\u003cbr\u003etruth behind who and what she was, he experienced an aching within his\u003cbr\u003ebreast that was decidedly human, part of himself that had been submerged\u003cbr\u003efor many centuries. The ache brought a sadness that threatened to cause\u003cbr\u003ehis voice to break and his eyes to tear. He stopped once in surprise to\u003cbr\u003efight back against it. It required some effort to resume speaking. The\u003cbr\u003egirl watched him without comment--intense, introspective, expectant.\u003cbr\u003eShe did not argue with what he told her and she did not question it. She\u003cbr\u003esimply listened and accepted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen he was done, she stood up. \"I understand what is expected of me.\u003cbr\u003eI am ready.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut the King of the Silver River shook his head. aOoeNo, child, you are\u003cbr\u003enot. You will discover that when you leave here. Despite who you are and\u003cbr\u003ewhat you can do, you are vulnerable nevertheless to things against which\u003cbr\u003eI cannot protect you. Be careful then to protect yourself. Be on guard\u003cbr\u003eagainst what you do not understand.aO?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I will,\" she replied.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe walked with her to the edge of the Gardens, to where the world of men\u003cbr\u003ebegan, and together they stared out at the encroaching ruin. They stood\u003cbr\u003ewithout speaking for a very long time before she said, \"I can tell\u003cbr\u003ethat I am needed there.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe nodded bleakly, feeling the loss of her already though she had not\u003cbr\u003eyet departed. She is only an elemental, he thought and knew immediately\u003cbr\u003ethat he was wrong. She was a great deal more. As much as if he had given\u003cbr\u003ebirth to her, she was a part of him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Goodbye, Father,\" she said suddenly and left his side.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe walked out of the Gardens and disappeared into the world beyond. She\u003cbr\u003edid not kiss him or touch him in parting. She simply left, because that\u003cbr\u003ewas all she knew to do.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe King of the Silver River turned away. His efforts had wearied him,\u003cbr\u003ehad drained him of his magic. He needed time to rest. Quickly he shed\u003cbr\u003ehis human image, stripping away the false covering of skin and bones,\u003cbr\u003ewashing himself clean of its memories and sensations, and reverting to\u003cbr\u003ethe faerie creature he was.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEven so, what he felt for Quickening, his daughter, the child of his\u003cbr\u003emaking, stayed with him.","brand":"Del Rey","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303665815781,"sku":"NP9780345375599","price":11.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345375599.jpg?v=1767739089","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-druid-of-shannara-isbn-9780345375599","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}