High druid of Shannara_ Jarka Ruus - Terry Brooks [61]
No wonder Weka Dart and probably most of those who lived here spoke a variation of the Elven tongue she knew from her studies. Once, all creatures had spoken the same tongue, born of the Word’s magic, given life and a chance at unity that they had tossed away.
“Have you always been the banished people?” she asked Weka Dart. “Do you keep histories of this? Does anyone?”
“Strakens and warlocks keep our histories, but they do not agree on what it is,” the Ulk Bog responded. He rubbed his sharp chin and sneered. “They like to change it to suit their own purposes. Liars and cheats, all! But those like myself who are not burdened with magic know the truth. The history is the history! It is not just what anyone says! Jarka Ruus have been here a thousand, thousand years, since they chose to be rid of the Elves and their kind, to come here and be free!”
A reasonable interpretation, she thought, for creatures that did not want to see themselves as exiled, but as self-determinative. The irony was that they still referred to themselves as Jarka Ruus — the banished people. Perhaps it was in the nature of all people that they should reinvent themselves to keep their pride and dignity intact. Monsters and demonkind had the same need for self-respect as humans.
She stopped herself in midthought, aware that she had missed something. “Are there others here like me?” she asked, thinking that since she had been sent here out of her own world, perhaps others had, as well.
“Strakens? Of course!”
“No, not Strakens. Humans.”
He stared at her. “What are humans?”
“People who look like me. Smooth-skinned.” She tried to figure out what else she could say. “Anyone who looks like me.”
He looked uneasy. “Like you? Some, not many. Strakens and warlocks and witches can look like anything with their magic.” He rubbed his hands together nervously and looked about.
“Can we go? That Dracha probably has friends. It might have gone to fetch them. Drachas are smart, and even a Straken as powerful as you can’t stand against a pack of them.”
She stared him down. He knew something that he wasn’t telling her, something important. She could see it in the shift of his eyes and hear it in his voice. But she decided to let it go for the moment. He was right about not lingering. It was too dangerous to stay anywhere for long inside a place like the Forbidding. Everything here was hunter or prey in its turn, and she could not afford to be seen as the latter.
She cast about again, trying to decide on a direction. She would have to choose one, whether it would take her anywhere useful or not. She had to get moving, away from this haven for dragons. Geographically, this world was the same as her own. She could use that, if she could just think how. Something about the similarity between the two should suggest a solution, a place to go, a way to survive.
She would have liked to use her magic, but she couldn’t think of a way in which that would be helpful. The wishsong could do many things, but it didn’t allow for opening doors between worlds. Besides, she was pretty sure that if she used it for that purpose, the amount of magic required would almost certainly attract unwanted attention.
Then, abruptly, she had her answer. She should have seen it at once. If the Forbidding was a mirror of her own world, it would have an equivalent to the Hadeshorn and perhaps a gateway to the Druids. If she could raise their shades here, as she would have been able to do there, she might be able to discover what she should do. As a working idea, it had promise. Besides, since it was the only idea she had, it was worth a try.
She looked at Weka Dart. “I’m going east, below the Dragon’s... below the mountains.”
The Ulk Bog furrowed his brow and said something unintelligible, clearly unhappy.
“You don’t have