“My friends.” The deep voice of Allanon boomed out in the slight stir of voices as he rose commandingly to his full height of seven feet. The room was instantly silent as all faces turned in his direction. “My friends, I must now tell you what I have as yet told no one else. We have suffered a tragic loss.”

He paused and looked at the anxious faces in turn.

“Paranor has fallen. A division of Gnome hunters under the command of the Warlock Lord has seized the Sword of Shannara!”

There was dead silence for about two seconds before the Dwarfs were on their feet, shouting in anger. Balinor rose quickly in an effort to quiet them. Shea and Flick looked at each other in disbelief. Only Menion seemed unsurprised by the announcement, his lean face carefully scrutinizing the dark figure at the head of the table.

“Paranor was taken from within,” Allanon continued after some semblance of order had been restored. “There is little question as to the fate of those who guarded the fortress and the Sword. I am told that all were executed. No one knows exactly how it happened.”

“Have you been there?” Shea asked suddenly, feeling almost immediately that it was a stupid question.

“I left your home in the Vale so suddenly because I received word that an attempt would be made to secure Paranor. I arrived too late to help those within and barely escaped detection myself. That is one of the reasons I am so late in reaching Culhaven.”

“But if Paranor has fallen and the Sword been taken…?”Flick’s whispered question trailed off ominously.

“Then what can we do now?” Allanon finished harshly. “This is the problem facing us, the one we must provide an immediate answer for-the reason for this council.”

Allanon suddenly left his position at the head of the long table and moved around until he was standing directly behind Shea. He placed one great hand on the slim shoulder and faced his attentive audience.

“The Sword of Shannara is useless in the hands of the Warlock Lord. It can only be raised by a son of the House of Jerle Shannara-this alone prevents the evil one from striking now. Instead, he has systematically hunted down and destroyed all members of that House, one at a time, one after another, even those I tried to protect all whom I could find. Now they are all dead-all save one, and that one is young Shea. Shea is only half Elf, but he is a direct descendant of the King who earned the great Sword so many years before. Now he must raise it once again.”

Shea would have bolted for the door if it had not been for the strong hand gripping his shoulder. He looked desperately at Flick and saw the fear in his own eyes mirrored in those of his brother’s. Menion had not moved, but appeared visibly impressed by this grim declaration. What Allanon seemed to expect from Shea was more than any man had the right to ask.