Read Online The Scions of Shannara by Terry Brooks - Free Book Online

address you. He summons you to the Hadeshorn—you, your cousin Wren, and . . .”
    â€œWren?” Coll interrupted, incredulous.
    The old man looked perturbed. “That’s what I said, didn’t I? Am I going to have to repeat everything? Your cousin, Wren Ohmsford. And Walker Boh as well.”
    â€œUncle Walker,” Par said softly. “I remember.”
    Coll glanced at his brother, then shook his head in disgust. “This is ridiculous. No one knows where either of them is!” he snapped. “Wren lives somewhere in the Westland with the Rovers. She lives out of the back of a wagon! And Walker Boh hasn’t been seen by anyone for almost ten years. He might be dead, for all we know!”
    â€œHe might, but he isn’t,” the old man said testily. He gave Coll a meaningful stare, then returned his gaze to Par. “All of you are to come to the Hadeshorn by the close of the present moon’s cycle. On the first night of the new moon, Allanon will speak with you there.”
    Par felt a chill go through him. “About magic?”
    Coll seized his brother’s shoulders. “About Shadowen?” he mimicked, widening his eyes.
    The old man bent forward suddenly, his face gone hard. “About what he chooses! Yes, about magic! And about Shadowen! About creatures like the one that knocked you aside just now as if you were a baby! But mostly, I think, young Coll, about this!”
    He threw a dash of dark powder into the fire with a suddenness that caused Par and Coll to jerk back sharply. The fire flared as it had when the old man had first appeared, but this time the light was drawn out of the air and everything went dark.
    Then an image formed in the blackness, growing in size until it seemed to be all around them. It was an image of the Four Lands, the countryside barren and empty, stripped of life and left ruined. Darkness and a haze of ash-filled smoke hung over everything. Rivers were filled with debris, the waters poisoned. Trees were bent and blasted, shorn of life. Nothing but scrub grew anywhere. Men crept about like animals, and animals fled at their coming. There were shadows with strange red eyes circling everywhere, dipping and playing within those humans who crept, twisting and turning them until they lost their shape and became unrecognizable.
    It was a nightmare of such fury and terror that it seemed to Par and Coll Ohmsford as if it were happening to them, and that the screams emanating from the mouths of the tortured humans were their own.
    Then the image was gone, and they were back again about the fire, the old man sitting there, watching them with hawk’s eyes.
    â€œThat was a part of my dream,” Par whispered.
    â€œThat was the future,” the old man said.
    â€œOr a trick,” a shaken Coll muttered, 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.
    â€œTell 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.
    â€œVery 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.
    â€œCogline, the same Cogline who lived in the Eastland with . . . ?”
    â€œYou mean the same man Kimber Boh . . .?”
    He cut them