Free The Sword of Shannara Trilogy by Terry Brooks

weapon.”
    Shea and Flick rose with him and shook the extended hand, noticing for the first time that the exposed arm was covered with gleaming chain mail. Without further comment, Balinor moved swiftly across the room and disappeared through the front door into the night.
    “Well, now what?” Flick asked as he collapsed back into his seat.
    “How should I know?” replied Shea wearily. “I’m no fortune-teller. I don’t have the vaguest idea if what he told us was the truth any more than what Allanon said! If he is right, and I have an uneasy suspicion that there is at least some truth in what he says, then for the sake of everyone concerned, I’ve got to get out of the valley. If someone is after me, we cannot be sure that others, like yourself and Father, won’t be hurt if I stay.”
    He gazed despondently across the room, hopelessly entangled by the tales he had been told, unable to decide what his best move would be. Flick watched him silently, knowing he could not help, but sharing his brother’s confusion and worry. Finally, he leaned across and put his hand on Shea’s shoulder.
    “I’m going with you,” he announced softly.
    Shea looked around at him, plainly startled.
    “I can’t have you doing that. Father would never understand. Besides, I may not be going anywhere.”
    “Remember what Allanon said—I’m in this with you,” Flick insisted stubbornly. “Besides, you’re my brother. I can’t let you go alone.”
    Shea stared at him wonderingly, then nodded and smiled his thanks.
    “We’ll talk about it later. At any rate, I can’t leave until I decide where I am going and what I will need—if I even go. I’ve got to leave some kind of note for Father—I can’t just walk out, despite what Allanon and Balinor think.”
    They left the table and retired to the kitchen for dinner. The remainder of the evening was spent restlessly wandering about the lounge and kitchen area, with several side trips to the sleeping quarters, where Shea rifled through his personal belongings, absently noting what he owned and setting aside stray items. Flick followed him about silently, unwilling to leave him alone, inwardly afraid that his brother might decide to depart for Culhaven without telling him. He watched Shea push clothing and camping equipment into a leather pack, and when he asked his brother why he was packing, he was told that this was just a precaution in case he did have to flee suddenly. Shea assured him that he would not leave without telling him, but the reassurance did not make Flick any easier in his mind, and he watched Shea all the more closely.
    It was pitch black when Shea was awakened by the hand on his arm. He had been sleeping lightly, and the cold touch woke him instantly, his heart pounding. He struggled wildly, unable to see anything in the darkness, and his free hand reached out to clutch his unseen attacker. A quick hiss reached his ears, and abruptly he recognized Flick’s broad features vaguely outlined in the dim light of the cloud-masked stars and a small crescent moon that shone through the curtained window. The fear eased, replaced by sudden relief at the familiar sight of his brother.
    “Flick! You scared …”
    His relief was cut short as Flick’s strong hand clamped over his open mouth and the warning hush sounded again. In the gloom, Shea could see deep lines of fear in his brother’s face, the pale skin drawn tightly with the cold of the night air. He started up, but the strong arms holding him grasped him tighter and drew his face near tightly clenched lips.
    “Don’t speak,” the whisper sounded in his ears, the voice trembling with terror. “The window—quietly!”
    The hands loosened their grip and gently, hastily pulled him from the bed and down along the floor until both brothers were crouched breathlessly on the hard wooden planks deep within the shadows of the room. Then Shea crawled with Flick toward the partly open window, still crouching, not