The Last Druid by Brooks, Terry;

Long description:

FOUR

At first, after Clizia s trap was sprung, Drisker Arc fell into blackness for an endless stretch of time. There was nothing to see and no sound, no tastes or smells, no feeling, no anything. Drisker folded into a ball and hung on, waiting for something more to reveal itself. He was not at all sure what sort of trap he had stumbled into. He was certain it had been designed to ensnare him, but other than that he couldn t be sure of its purpose. He managed to summon sufficient magic to enclose himself in a protective shield so that he would not be helpless when the falling ended, but other than this single act he could manage nothing.

The end came when his descent slowed and then stopped altogether. He was still cocooned away, still unaware of where he was, still a prisoner with no means available to free himself.

He waited patiently, keeping control over himself with steady and purposeful determination.

Eventually, he realized the blackness was giving way to a semblance of daylight. As his surroundings began to take shape, he saw that he was in a thick patch of woods, its trees old and shaggy and witch-bent, with limbs stretching so far skyward he could not tell where they ended. The ground around him was a mix of brush and grasses, thickly grown but not lush. Rather, everything had a haggard and badly worn air that suggested a place where life had been forced to fight hard for survival. As his senses heightened, he could smell rot and decay. He could see blackened patches on the trees and brush; he could smell and taste the parts that were slowly being eaten away by the corrosion.

He searched for movement in the twilight darkness, but found none. If anything lived here, it was either in hiding or out of view.

He was infuriated he had allowed this to happen. It had been a foolish choice to go after Clizia alone, but he had thought it was best to catch up to the rogue Druid at once. Tarsha and Tavo were both down, but while both were stunned, neither seemed seriously injured and he didn t think it necessary to wait for them to recover. So, impulsively, he had determined he would do what was needed on his own.

Had he not made this choice which, in retrospect, was likely the most foolish of his entire life he might have lost Clizia but would not be wherever it was he found himself now. He should have helped his companions and gone after her later. Now everything and everyone was at risk.

He found himself worrying about the fate of his sibling companions. Having disposed of him, Clizia would have gone back either to take them prisoner or to kill them. If she succeeded in doing either, he would have to place the blame squarely on his own shoulders, and he would spend the rest of his life whatever life he had left blaming himself for what had happened.

Yet both Kaynins possessed the considerable magic of the wishsong to aid them, and both were resourceful. He had to hope this was sufficient to see them through any confrontation that took place. Tarsha, in particular, was smart enough to find a way to protect them, and would not tend toward rash behavior of the sort he had just exhibited. With Tavo beside her, she should be more than a match for Clizia Porse.

At least, that was what he told himself.

The light had brightened further, and his surroundings were coming into sharper focus. He could see mountains and hills through breaks in the trees. He could just spy the thread of a distant river, flowing sluggishly across a barren plain. What was troubling was that everything was pretty much the same color, wherever he looked a dismal, flat, ashen gray. Sky, horizon, landmarks, the air itself, all were marked by gloom that . . .

No! It wasn t possible. Even Clizia couldn t do that! He stared into the distance some more, then dropped the magic that shielded him and climbed to his

Praise for Terry Brooks

The Sword of Shannara is an unforgettable and wildly entertaining epic, animated by Terry Brooks s cosmically generative imagination and storytelling joy. Karen Russell, New York Times bestselling author of Swamplandia!

If Tolkien is the grandfather of modern fantasy, Terry Brooks is its favorite uncle. Peter V. Brett, New York Times bestselling author of The Core

I can t even begin to count how many of Terry Brooks s books I've read (and re-read) over the years. From Shannara to Landover, his work was a huge part of my childhood. Patrick Rothfuss, New York Times bestselling author of The Name of the Wind

Terry Brooks is a master of the craft and a trailblazer who established fantasy as a viable genre. He is required reading. Brent Weeks, New York Times bestselling author of The Night Angel Trilogy

The Shannara books were among the first to really capture my imagination. My daydreams and therefore my stories will always owe a debt to Terry Brooks. Brandon Mull,