Paladins of Shannara: The Black Irix (Short Story) by Terry Brooks Page A
Authors: Terry Brooks
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said he will never put himself in danger like that again, and he is staying
in the Vale with me and Father!”
“Nevertheless.”
Flick dismissed the reading out of hand. He rose, thanked Audrana Coos once more,
and with the potion tucked into his pocket set out for home.
When he got there, late in the day, he considered his choices. Even though he had
possession of the potion, he was not entirely convinced of its value. What was to
say it would not prove harmful to his brother in spite of what he had been told? Maybe
he had been deceived. Maybe the claims of effectiveness were exaggerated.
But he could not persuade himself that it was better to do nothing than to try
something
. There was about Audrana Coos a reassurance that he could not easily dismiss. There
was a confidence and perhaps even a promise in her words that dispelled his doubtsand persuaded him to proceed with his plan.
So he waited until a worn and ravaged Shea was finished with his afternoon nap, walked
his brother downstairs from their rooms, an arm about his waist to steady him, and
sat with him on the inn’s covered porch, watching the sun sink slowly behind the trees.
Flick was animated and engaging on that afternoon as he related an imaginary tale
of things he had never done, covering up the truth about where he actually had been.
He worked hard to capture his brother’s full attention while encouraging him to drink
down the tankard of ale he had given him, remembering what Audrana Coos had told him—that
all of the contents of the bottle must be consumed.
And in the end, it was. Shea, almost asleep by then, head drooping, eyes heavy, drank
the last of his ale, and Flick caught the tankard just before it dropped from his
brother’s hand.
Then he carried Shea to his room, tucked him into his bed, and went down to dinner
alone. He ate in the dining room at a corner table, keeping to himself—his father
was working in the kitchen that night—as he considered what he had just done and prayed
to whatever fates determined such things that he had not made a mistake.
In the morning, when Shea woke and came down to breakfast, he looked much better.
He was smiling and lively; he appeared to have begun his recovery.
“So you don’t feel sick anymore?” Flick asked happily.
His brother shook his head and grinned. “No. I can’t understand it. I feel like I
used to. Much, much better.”
Flick said nothing then about what he had done. He watched his brother closely for
almost two weeks, constantly looking for signs of a regression into the sickness,
worrying that the potion’s effectiveness might not last. But at the end of that time,
when Shea was still healthy and in all respects back to himself, Flick had to admit
that the medicine Audrana Coos had given him had indeed worked.
It was then that he admitted the truth to Shea about what he had done, not wanting
to keep anything from the brother to whom he told everything. He did so hesitantly,
not certain what Shea’s reaction might be and anxious to be forgiven for his deception.
But Shea simply clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Well done, Flick. No wonder
I love you so much.”
Emboldened, Flick then told him what the seer had said about Shea going on anotherquest—one that Flick would not countenance, but one his brother would undertake anyway.
Shea laughed. “I’m not going on any more quests, Flick. I’m all done with that sort
of thing. I’m staying right here in the Vale with you.”
And Flick smiled and hugged his brother, and put the matter out of his mind.
* * *
Four months later, with the summer mostly gone and the first signs of an approaching
autumn reflected in chilly early mornings and leaves turning color, Shea Ohmsford
was hauling wood for use in the big stone fireplace in the tavern’s common room. He
did it by hand rather than by cart because he was still proving to himself that he
was
in the Vale with me and Father!”
“Nevertheless.”
Flick dismissed the reading out of hand. He rose, thanked Audrana Coos once more,
and with the potion tucked into his pocket set out for home.
When he got there, late in the day, he considered his choices. Even though he had
possession of the potion, he was not entirely convinced of its value. What was to
say it would not prove harmful to his brother in spite of what he had been told? Maybe
he had been deceived. Maybe the claims of effectiveness were exaggerated.
But he could not persuade himself that it was better to do nothing than to try
something
. There was about Audrana Coos a reassurance that he could not easily dismiss. There
was a confidence and perhaps even a promise in her words that dispelled his doubtsand persuaded him to proceed with his plan.
So he waited until a worn and ravaged Shea was finished with his afternoon nap, walked
his brother downstairs from their rooms, an arm about his waist to steady him, and
sat with him on the inn’s covered porch, watching the sun sink slowly behind the trees.
Flick was animated and engaging on that afternoon as he related an imaginary tale
of things he had never done, covering up the truth about where he actually had been.
He worked hard to capture his brother’s full attention while encouraging him to drink
down the tankard of ale he had given him, remembering what Audrana Coos had told him—that
all of the contents of the bottle must be consumed.
And in the end, it was. Shea, almost asleep by then, head drooping, eyes heavy, drank
the last of his ale, and Flick caught the tankard just before it dropped from his
brother’s hand.
Then he carried Shea to his room, tucked him into his bed, and went down to dinner
alone. He ate in the dining room at a corner table, keeping to himself—his father
was working in the kitchen that night—as he considered what he had just done and prayed
to whatever fates determined such things that he had not made a mistake.
In the morning, when Shea woke and came down to breakfast, he looked much better.
He was smiling and lively; he appeared to have begun his recovery.
“So you don’t feel sick anymore?” Flick asked happily.
His brother shook his head and grinned. “No. I can’t understand it. I feel like I
used to. Much, much better.”
Flick said nothing then about what he had done. He watched his brother closely for
almost two weeks, constantly looking for signs of a regression into the sickness,
worrying that the potion’s effectiveness might not last. But at the end of that time,
when Shea was still healthy and in all respects back to himself, Flick had to admit
that the medicine Audrana Coos had given him had indeed worked.
It was then that he admitted the truth to Shea about what he had done, not wanting
to keep anything from the brother to whom he told everything. He did so hesitantly,
not certain what Shea’s reaction might be and anxious to be forgiven for his deception.
But Shea simply clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Well done, Flick. No wonder
I love you so much.”
Emboldened, Flick then told him what the seer had said about Shea going on anotherquest—one that Flick would not countenance, but one his brother would undertake anyway.
Shea laughed. “I’m not going on any more quests, Flick. I’m all done with that sort
of thing. I’m staying right here in the Vale with you.”
And Flick smiled and hugged his brother, and put the matter out of his mind.
* * *
Four months later, with the summer mostly gone and the first signs of an approaching
autumn reflected in chilly early mornings and leaves turning color, Shea Ohmsford
was hauling wood for use in the big stone fireplace in the tavern’s common room. He
did it by hand rather than by cart because he was still proving to himself that he
was
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