The Druid of Shannara (The Heritage of Shannara, #2) - PDF free download eBook
- Verified: Mon, Oct 21, 2019
- Published: 28.01.2019
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In the three hundred years since the death of the Druid Allanon, the evil Shadowen have seized control of the Four Lands. If they are to be saved, the black Elfstone must be retrieved, at whatever...read more
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In the three hundred years since the death of the Druid Allanon, the evil Shadowen have seized control of the Four Lands. If they are to be saved, the black Elfstone must be retrieved, at whatever cost to life or love... From the cover The King of the Silver River stood at the edge of the Gardens that had been his domain since the dawn of the age of faerie and looked out o In the three hundred years since the death of the Druid Allanon, the evil Shadowen have seized control of the Four Lands.
If they are to be saved, the black Elfstone must be retrieved, at whatever cost to life or love... From the cover The King of the Silver River stood at the edge of the Gardens that had been his domain since the dawn of the age of faerie and looked out over the world of mortal men. What he saw left him sad and discouraged.
Everywhere the land sickened and died, rich black earth turning to dust, grassy plains withering, forests becoming huge stands of deadwood, and lakes and rivers either stagnating or drying away. Everywhere the creatures who lived upon the land sickened and died as well, unable to sustain themselves as the nourishment they relied upon grew poisoned. Even the air had begun to turn foul.
And all the while, the King of the Silver River thought, the Shadowen grow stronger. His fingers reached out to brush the crimson petals of the cyclamen that grew thick about his feet. Forsythia clustered just beyond, dogwood and cherry farther back, fuchsia and hibiscus, rhododendrons and dahlias, beds of iris, azaleas, daffodils, roses, and a hundred other varieties of flowers and flowering plants that were always in bloom, a profusion of colors that stretched away into the distance until lost from sight.
There were animals to be seen as well, both large and small, creatures whose evolution could be traced back to that distant time when all things lived in harmony and peace. In the present world, the world of the Four Lands and the Races that had evolved out of the chaos and destruction of the Great Wars, that time was all but forgotten. The King of the Silver River was its sole remnant.
He had been alive when the world was new and its first creatures were just being born. He had been young then, and there had been many like him. Now he was old and he was the last of his kind.
Everything that had been, save for the Gardens in which he lived, had passed away. The Gardens alone survived, changeless, sustained by the magic of faerie. The Word had given the Gardens to the King of the Silver River and told him to tend them, to keep them as a reminder of what had once been and what might one day be again.
The world without would evolve as it must, but the Gardens would remain forever the same. Even so, they were shrinking. It was not so much physical as spiritual.
The boundaries of the Gardens were fixed and unalterable, for the Gardens existed in a plane of being unaffected by changes in the world of mortal men. The Gardens were a presence rather than a place. Yet that presence was diminished by the sickening of the world to which it was tied, for the work of the Gardens and their tender was to keep that world strong.
As the Four Lands grew poisoned, the work became harder, the effects of that work grew shorter, and the boundaries of human belief and trust in its existence—always somewhat marginalaO"began to fail altogether. The King of the Silver River grieved that this should be. He did not grieve for himself; he was beyond that.
He grieved for the people of the Four Lands, the mortal men and women for whom the magic of faerie was in danger of being lost forever. The Gardens had been their haven in the land of the Silver River for centuries, and he had been the spirit friend who protected its people. He had watched over them, had given them a sense of peace and well-being that transcended physical boundaries, and gave promise that benevolence and goodwill were still accessible in some corners of the world to all.
Now that was ended. Now he could protect no one. The evil of the Shadowen, the poison they had inflicted upon the Four Lands, had eroded his own strength until he was virtually sealed within his Gardens,...
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