The Sword of Shannara - Terry Brooks [186]
“My Lord Balinor, you’ve come at last,” the soldier exclaimed in greeting, his head bowing briefly as he came to attention before his commander.
“Captain Sheelon, it’s good to see you.” Balinor clasped the veteran’s gnarled hand in his own. “What’s going on in the city? Why do the guards wear the sign of a falcon and not that of our fighting leopard?”
“My Lord, the Border Legion has been ordered to disband! Only a handful of us still remain on duty, the rest are returned to their homes!”
They stared at the man as if he were insane. The Border Legion had been disbanded in the midst of the greatest invasion ever to threaten the Southland? Almost as one they recalled the words of Allanon telling them that the Border Legion was the only hope left to the people of the threatened lands, that the Border Legion must at least temporarily delay the awesome force assembled by the Warlock Lord. Now the army of Callahorn had been mysteriously scattered...
“By whose order...?” Balinor asked in slow fury.
“It was your brother,” the grizzled Sheelon declared quickly. “He ordered his own guardsmen to assume our duties and commanded the Legion to disband until further notice. The Lords Acton and Messaline went to the palace to beg the King to reconsider, but they did not return. There was nothing more any of us could do but obey...”
“Has everyone gone mad?” the infuriated borderman demanded, clasping the soldier’s tunic. “What of my father, the King? Does he not still rule this land and command the Border Legion? What does he say of this fool’s play?”
Sheelon looked away, groping for the words to the answer he was afraid to speak. Balinor jerked him around violently.
“I — I do not know, my Lord,” the man muttered, still trying to turn away. “We heard the King was ill, and then there was nothing more. Your brother declared himself temporary ruler in the King’s absence from the throne. That was three weeks ago.”
Balinor released the man in shocked silence and stared absently at the lights of the distant palace — the home he had come back to with such great hopes. He had left Callahorn because of an intolerable rift between his brother and himself, yet his going had only made matters worse. Now he must face the unpredictable Palance on terms not of his own choosing — face him and persuade him somehow of the folly of his action in disbanding the desperately needed Border Legion.
“We must go at once to the palace and speak with your brother.” The eager, impatient voice of Dayel cast into his thoughts. He looked at the youthful Elf for a moment, reminded suddenly of his own brother’s young age. It was going to be so hard to reason with Palance.
“Yes, you’re right, of course,” he agreed almost absently. “We must go to him.”
“No, you mustn’t go in there!” The sharp cry of Sheelon held them rooted in place. “The others who went did not come out again. There are rumors that your brother has declared you a traitor — found you to be in league with the evil Allanon, the black wanderer who serves the dark powers. It has been said that you shall be imprisoned and put to death!”
“That is ridiculous!” exclaimed the tall borderman quickly. “I am no traitor and even my brother knows this to be true. As for Allanon, he is the best friend and ally the Southland will ever find. I must go to Palance and speak with him. We may disagree, but he would not imprison his own brother. The power is not his!”
“Unless, perhaps, your father is dead, my friend,” Durin cautioned from one side. “The time to be prudent is now, before we have entered the palace grounds. Hendel believes