Read Online The Heritage of Shannara by Terry Brooks - Free Book Online
Authors: Terry Brooks
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stiffening against his own fear.
The old man glared. “The future is an ever-shifting maze of possibilities until it becomes the present. The future I have shown you tonight is not yet fixed. But it is more likely to become so with the passing of every day because nothing is being done to turn it aside. If you would change it, do as I have told you. Go to Allanon! Listen to what he will say!”
Coll said nothing, his dark eyes uneasy with doubt.
“Tell us who you are,” Par said softly.
The old man turned to him, studied him for a moment, then looked away from them both, staring out into the darkness as if there were worlds and lives hidden there that only he could see. Finally, he looked back again, nodding.
“Very well, though I can't see what difference it makes. I have a name, a name you should both recognize quickly enough. My name is Cogline.”
For an instant, neither Par nor Coll said anything. Then both began speaking at once.
“Cogline, the same Cogline who lived in the Eastland with … ?”
“You mean the same man Kimber Boh … ?”
He cut them short irritably. “Yes, yes! How many Coglines can there possibly be!” He frowned as he saw the looks on their faces. “You don't believe me, do you?”
Par took a deep breath. “Cogline was an old man in the time of Brin Ohmsford. That was three hundred years ago.”
Unexpectedly, the other laughed. “An old man! Ha! And what do you know of old men, Par Ohmsford? Fact is, you don't know a whisker's worth!” He laughed, then shook his head helplessly. “Listen. Allanon was alive five hundred years before he died! You don't question that, do you? Ithink not, since you tell the story so readily! Is it so astonishing then that I have been alive for a mere three hundred years?” He paused, and there was a surprisingly mischievous look in his eye. “Goodness, what would you have said if I had told you I had been alive longer even than that?”
Then he waved his hand dismissively. “No, no, don't bother to answer. Answer me this instead. What do you know about me? About the Cogline of your stories? Tell me.”
Par shook his head, confused. “That he was a hermit, living off in the Wilderun with his granddaughter, Kimber Boh. That my ancestor, Brin Ohmsford, and her companion, Rone Leah, found him there when they …”
“Yes, yes, but what about the
man
? Think now of what you've seen of me!”
Par shrugged. “That he …” He stopped. “That he used powders that exploded. That he knew something of the old sciences, that he'd studied them somewhere.” He was remembering the specifics of the tales of Cog-line now, and in remembering found himself thinking that maybe this old man's claim wasn't so farfetched. “He employed different forms of power, the sorts that the Druids had discarded in their rebuilding of the old world. Shades! If you are Cogline, you must still have such power. Do you? Is it magic like my own?”
Coll looked suddenly worried. “Par!”
“Like your own?” the old man asked quickly. “Magic like the wish-song? Hah! Never! Never so unpredictable as that! That was always the trouble with the Druids and their Elven magics—too unpredictable! The power I wield is grounded in sciences proven and tested through the years by reliable study! It doesn't act of its own accord; it doesn't evolve like something alive!” He stopped, a fierce smile creasing his aged face. “But then, too, Par Ohmsford, my power doesn't sing either!”
“Are you really Cogline?” Par asked softly, his amazement at it being possible apparent in his voice.
“Yes,” the old man whispered back. “Yes, Par.” He swung quickly then to face Coll, who was about to interrupt, placing a narrow, bony finger to his lips. “Shhhh, young Ohmsford, I know you still disbelieve, and your brother as well, but just listen for a moment. You are children of the Elven house of Shannara. There have not been many and always much has been expected of them. It
The old man glared. “The future is an ever-shifting maze of possibilities until it becomes the present. The future I have shown you tonight is not yet fixed. But it is more likely to become so with the passing of every day because nothing is being done to turn it aside. If you would change it, do as I have told you. Go to Allanon! Listen to what he will say!”
Coll said nothing, his dark eyes uneasy with doubt.
“Tell us who you are,” Par said softly.
The old man turned to him, studied him for a moment, then looked away from them both, staring out into the darkness as if there were worlds and lives hidden there that only he could see. Finally, he looked back again, nodding.
“Very well, though I can't see what difference it makes. I have a name, a name you should both recognize quickly enough. My name is Cogline.”
For an instant, neither Par nor Coll said anything. Then both began speaking at once.
“Cogline, the same Cogline who lived in the Eastland with … ?”
“You mean the same man Kimber Boh … ?”
He cut them short irritably. “Yes, yes! How many Coglines can there possibly be!” He frowned as he saw the looks on their faces. “You don't believe me, do you?”
Par took a deep breath. “Cogline was an old man in the time of Brin Ohmsford. That was three hundred years ago.”
Unexpectedly, the other laughed. “An old man! Ha! And what do you know of old men, Par Ohmsford? Fact is, you don't know a whisker's worth!” He laughed, then shook his head helplessly. “Listen. Allanon was alive five hundred years before he died! You don't question that, do you? Ithink not, since you tell the story so readily! Is it so astonishing then that I have been alive for a mere three hundred years?” He paused, and there was a surprisingly mischievous look in his eye. “Goodness, what would you have said if I had told you I had been alive longer even than that?”
Then he waved his hand dismissively. “No, no, don't bother to answer. Answer me this instead. What do you know about me? About the Cogline of your stories? Tell me.”
Par shook his head, confused. “That he was a hermit, living off in the Wilderun with his granddaughter, Kimber Boh. That my ancestor, Brin Ohmsford, and her companion, Rone Leah, found him there when they …”
“Yes, yes, but what about the
man
? Think now of what you've seen of me!”
Par shrugged. “That he …” He stopped. “That he used powders that exploded. That he knew something of the old sciences, that he'd studied them somewhere.” He was remembering the specifics of the tales of Cog-line now, and in remembering found himself thinking that maybe this old man's claim wasn't so farfetched. “He employed different forms of power, the sorts that the Druids had discarded in their rebuilding of the old world. Shades! If you are Cogline, you must still have such power. Do you? Is it magic like my own?”
Coll looked suddenly worried. “Par!”
“Like your own?” the old man asked quickly. “Magic like the wish-song? Hah! Never! Never so unpredictable as that! That was always the trouble with the Druids and their Elven magics—too unpredictable! The power I wield is grounded in sciences proven and tested through the years by reliable study! It doesn't act of its own accord; it doesn't evolve like something alive!” He stopped, a fierce smile creasing his aged face. “But then, too, Par Ohmsford, my power doesn't sing either!”
“Are you really Cogline?” Par asked softly, his amazement at it being possible apparent in his voice.
“Yes,” the old man whispered back. “Yes, Par.” He swung quickly then to face Coll, who was about to interrupt, placing a narrow, bony finger to his lips. “Shhhh, young Ohmsford, I know you still disbelieve, and your brother as well, but just listen for a moment. You are children of the Elven house of Shannara. There have not been many and always much has been expected of them. It
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