The Sword of Shannara - Terry Brooks [255]
“Traitor! Guards, it’s a trick...”
He was never able to finish. As the distracted sentries whirled about, Menion leaped catlike at the fleeing mystic, throwing him violently to the stone floor. The soldiers realized their mistake too late. The four prisoners sprang into action, closing the short space of ground separating them from their jailers and disarming them before they could recover. Within seconds the guards were subdued, quickly bound and gagged, and dragged into a corner of the cellar where they were hidden from sight. A thoroughly beaten Stenmin was yanked unceremoniously to his feet to face his new captors. Menion glanced anxiously at the closed door at the top of the cellar stairway, but no one appeared. Apparently the shout had gone unheeded. Balinor and the others came over to him with smiles of gratitude on their tired faces, clapping him on the back and shaking his hand once again.
“Menion Leah, we owe you more than we can ever hope to give back.” The giant borderman gripped his hand tightly. “I did not think we would ever see you again. Where is Allanon?”
Quickly Menion explained how he had left Allanon and Flick concealed above the camp of the Northland army and come to Callahorn to warn of the impending advance against Tyrsis. Pausing momentarily to gag Stenmin in the event the evil adviser should attempt to call out another warning to the guards posted outside the cellar door, the highlander told of rescuing Shirl Ravenlock, fleeing to Kern and subsequently to the walls of Tyrsis after the island city was besieged and destroyed. His friends listened grimly until he had finished.
“Whatever else may come out of this, highlander,” Hendel declared quietly, “you have proved yourself this day and we shall never forget it.”
“The Border Legion must be re-formed and sent to hold the Mermidon immediately,” Balinor cut in quickly. “We must get word to the lower city. Then we must find my father... and my brother. But I want to secure the palace and the army without a battle. Menion, can we trust Janus Senpre to come to our aid if we call for him?”
“He is loyal to you and to the King.” Menion nodded affirmatively.
“You must get a message to him while we remain here,” the Prince of Callahorn continued, pacing over toward the captive Stenmin. “Once he arrives with help, we should have no trouble — my brother will be left without support. But what of my father...?”
Towering over the dark form of the mystic, he removed the gag from the captive’s mouth and stared coldly down at him. Stenmin met his gaze briefly, his own eyes furtive and filled with hate. The mystic knew he was beaten if Palance was captured and removed as monarch of Callahorn, and he was becoming increasingly desperate as the end drew near and his plans began to break apart. Standing with the Elven brothers and Hendel as Balinor confronted the mysterious captive, Menion found himself wondering what the man had hoped to gain by encouraging Palance to take the steps he had. Certainly it was no mystery why he had supported the distraught and unstable Prince as the new King of Callahorn. His own position was assured with Balinor’s brother ruling. But why had he encouraged the disbanding of the Border Legion when he knew that an invading army was threatening to overrun the little Southland kingdom and put an end to its enlightened monarchy? Why had he gone to such pains to imprison Balinor and to secrete his father in a distant wing of the palace when they could have been quietly disposed of? And why had he tried to kill Menion Leah, a man he had never met before?
“Stenmin, your rule over this land and its people and your domination of my brother are over,” Balinor declared with cold determination. “Whether