The Skaar Invasion

“I don’t care how complicated they are!” Dar snapped. “There should have been some sort of communication between the Druids and the Elves!”

  “You make it sound like this is something new. There hasn’t been any real communication between the two for a long time. Didn’t you know?”

  The Blade shook his head. “I was gone too often to notice, I suppose, and Ober Balronen wasn’t one to share his business with anyone. But no one else tried communicating? And Arborlon let things stay that way? Why?”

  “My father made a few attempts in the beginning, but they were never reciprocated. And yes, we knew right away about the Skaar when they landed on the northern shores of the Tiderace, but it was Wing Riders who brought us word. We learned later about the Corrax and the others. We tried to communicate what we knew with the Druids, but we heard nothing back. When they failed to respond, we tried sending word to the Federation. They ignored us, too.”

  “So you gave up?”

  “Essentially. My father and the Council decided that if there were any real danger, we would have heard something. Besides, this wasn’t Elven business, and for a long time now the Elves have been withdrawing further from the other Races, having less and less to do with them. Save for the Dwarves, with whom we still interact regularly, we share almost nothing with the rest of the Four Lands.”

  Dar shook his head. “This is madness! Do you have any idea what the Skaar can do? How dangerous they are? Especially that princess!”

  “I did what I could, Dar. I don’t believe in isolation as either a political or economic policy. But these days, I am definitely in the minority. And the Druids had no use for us other than to keep pressuring us to let them take control of our magic. Recently, they asked to send members of their order to aid in managing it—and not in a polite way. More as an unstated threat, an obvious insult. We Elves have managed our own magic for centuries, long before humans even existed. We have trained endlessly to understand how it functions and have made better use of it than the Druids ever thought of doing. The Federation is no better. They want the same things from us as the Druids, except their plan is to see magic eradicated from the Four Lands completely. They would see us eradicated, as well, if they could find a way to make it happen. To take our magic is to steal our heritage. It is unthinkable.”

  “Well, you can stop worrying about the Druids.”

  Brecon nodded. “I know that now. I’m sorry. And I wish I could change it. I wish the Elves had chosen a different course of action. But my father is a stubborn man. I’m a good son, and he appreciates how talented I am at growing things, but he doesn’t think me of much use beyond that. He seldom listens to me.”

  Dar leaned back in his seat and shook his head. “Well, he should listen to you. He has some very big problems. Ajin d’Amphere devised and executed the plan that led to the destruction of Paranor and the Druids. Whatever she wants from the Elves, it will only be to serve her own purposes. Your father needs to be warned.”

  Brecon shrugged. “I can warn him, but I can’t make him listen. Growing older hasn’t made him any less stubborn.”

  “You are his son! You have to make him understand.”

  “Dar, you and I are friends, but you haven’t been here in well over a year. You don’t understand how things are. So let me explain it to you. I told you my father doesn’t consult with me on matters of court. He didn’t invite me to this morning’s Council—or invite my brothers, for that matter. He wanted to handle this by himself.” He paused. “I met Ajin d’Amphere. She is very beautiful, and I know my father thinks so, too. It’s never too late to have a brief fling, you know, and he’s been looking; I can tell. I keep it from my mother, but she’s probably noticed, anyway.”

  “He’d better keep a blade under his pillow if he plans to sleep with her,” Dar muttered.

  “So what do you want to do?”

  Dar was uncertain. Charge over to the Elven assembly and question whatever it was Ajin was telling the High Council, demand that she be sent away at once? Somehow he didn’t think that was a good idea. He was not an Elf and had no standing in Arborlon. Besides, Ajin was too clever to be brushed aside so easily. She would find a way to turn the tables on him, and he would have lost any chance he had of putting a stop to her plans.

  Besides, it was more important just now that he find Tarsha Kaynin.

  “What did you come here for, anyway?” Brecon asked suddenly.

  Dar leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “Well, not for Ajin d’Amphere. I need to find someone, a young girl Drisker has been mentoring over the past few weeks. She is exceptionally skilled in the use of magic. Drisker has been training her.”

  Brecon stared. “But he never trains anyone.”

  “He’s made an exception for Tarsha Kaynin. She’s an Ohmsford descendant. She’s inherited the wishsong.”

  His friend drew a sharp intake of breath. “Well, no wonder you want to find her. I didn’t think there was an Ohmsford descendant left in the entire Four Lands. She must be the last of that line.”

  Dar shook his head. “Not quite. She has a brother who can use the magic, too. But he is deeply troubled, and she is worried about him. She went to find him about a week ago.”

  “Do you know where she went?”

  “A village called Backing Fell, in the deep Westland. I don’t know where it is or even where she is at this point. But there’s a reason we have to find her and find her quickly. I haven’t told you this, but the Keep was betrayed by one of the Druids—an elder of the inner circle, a woman who has been with the order for years. Her name is Clizia Porse. She helped the Skaar get inside the Keep, making it possible for the Druids to be destroyed. She was one of only two Druids who survived.”

  “One of two?” Brecon looked confused.

  “Drisker Arc was the other.”

  “But he left Paranor months ago. He was exiled. What was he doing there?”

  “He found out what was going to happen and tried to stop it. I went with him. But he trusted Clizia, and she betrayed him. She was the one who used her magic to send Paranor from the Four Lands and into limbo. When she did so, Drisker was inside. So now he’s trapped there.”

  Brecon shook his head. “But you escaped, and now you want to find a way to get him back.”

  Dar nodded. “I’m hoping Tarsha Kaynin is the answer. The wishsong is a powerful magic. If anyone can help Drisker escape his imprisonment, it would be her. I don’t know whom else to turn to. I have to find her.”

  “I know of Backing Fell,” Brecon said. “I can get us that far. But if she’s left and gone elsewhere…”

  “We have to assume she has. I can’t track her at this point. I need another way of finding her.”

  Brecon stared at him for a long moment. Then realization set in. “No,” he said emphatically.

  “There isn’t any other way.” Dar held his gaze.

  “Then find one.”

  Dar brushed back strands of his long red hair where they fell across his face. “You have to remove them from wherever your father has them stored and come with me to find her.”

  “My father would have me thrown out of the city and banished for life!”

  “Only if he finds out what you’ve done. You can return them before he even knows they’re missing.”

  Brecon made a rude noise. “You make it sound so simple. But it isn’t. He’s got them locked away. In his chambers. In a steel box sealed inside the flooring! Even I can’t get at them.”

  “What do mean?” Dar interrupted. “Since when did you ever let a lock stop you? If you know where they are, you can figure out a way to open it! You probably already have, if I know you.”

  The Elven prince gave him a long-suffering look. “The Blue Elfstones. The Seeking Stones. Magic that can find anything hidden or lost. You want me to steal them from my father, and then use them to fin
d this Tarsha person. But you don’t seem to realize what you’re asking of me. You don’t seem to appreciate the risk you are asking me to take.”

  “I understand perfectly.” Dar sighed. “And I am not suggesting you should steal them. I’m only asking you to borrow them. I wouldn’t ask it if there were any other way, but there isn’t.”

  “Borrow, not steal. There’s a distinction without a difference.” Brecon was drinking the rest of his ale, one large swallow at a time. “The Stones have been locked away for decades.” He looked back at Dar. “I knew you were here for a reason.” He set his glass on the table with a thump. “I hoped it might have something to do with wanting to see me.”

  “It does. You know that.” Dar leaned forward, his face intense, his mouth tight. “But it’s more than wanting to see an old friend. My entire life has been destroyed. The Druids are all dead. Paranor is gone. I have nowhere else to turn. I cannot abandon Drisker; I will not. He is the best hope for the Four Lands. The best hope for all of us. He can find a way to stop what’s happening.”

  “You need to find someone else to help you.”

  “Brecon, listen to yourself! Let someone else handle this? Who else is there? I am here because I think that, together, we can find a way to make all this right—the loss of the Druids and Paranor, the imprisonment of Drisker, your father’s possible infatuation with an enemy who will likely cut his throat if he pursues her, and a foreign Race that clearly has ambitions that go far beyond finding a new homeland.”

  He paused and shook his head. “Please, don’t refuse me this. Help me. I need you!”

  Brecon Elessedil studied him some more, then sighed. “Even if I wanted to get you the Elfstones, I couldn’t.”

  “Maybe we can find a way,” Dar said. “They’re in a lockbox in the floor of your father’s bedroom? Can we get in there without being seen?”

  Brecon stared at him. “What are you up to?”

  Dar kept his face expressionless. “You’re pretty good at opening locks, remember? And you’ve opened this one before. Let’s find out if you can open it again.”

  * * *

  —

  Ajin d’Amphere had waited impatiently for the Elven king and his High Council to make their decision, believing that it would go in her favor but at the same time worrying it wouldn’t. She prowled the hallways restlessly, her Skaar escort of two soldiers trailing after her like loyal dogs. Not that she thought of them that way. Such an assessment was too limiting. They were there to ward her against harm. They were there to do her bidding whenever summoned. But they were more to her than that. All of the soldiers in her small command were more than just names and faces. She was close to them, the result of years of shared experiences. They were friends.

  She knew it was wrong to think of men under your command that way, to allow yourself to feel anything for them. A leader should not be personally affected when individual soldiers were lost while in her service. But that was not who she was, and she had known it since she had begun her training with members of her command almost a dozen years ago. During her formative years, they had struggled together to endure both emotional and physical hardships, comrades frequently closer to one another than to their families.

  Her thoughts shifted momentarily to her relationship with Kol’Dre. He had served her for years in her campaigns across Eurodia, repeatedly making it possible for her to turn adverse situations to her advantage. Over and over, he had given her invaluable information and advice. That spoke volumes about his devotion to her. But he was too ambitious for his own good. And while she trusted him, that trust was not as complete as she would have liked—especially when it came to his feelings for her. He wanted more from her than she was willing to give. She would have to keep an eye on him. She could not allow her emotions to undermine her authority or to paint her as a vulnerable woman.

  She stopped at the end of the hallway on what might have been her twentieth circuit and stood looking at the Home Guards and the closed assembly doors. If the Elven king refused her, she would have to reevaluate her whole plan. But there was no help for it. She had done her best to convince him; she had made certain he knew she favored him. Brief furtive looks, small acknowledgments, and words that carried possible meanings beyond what they conveyed openly. Tricks of seduction, and she had used them all. Overt actions would not work with Gerrendren Elessedil. He was too proper and restrained for that. He would expect her to exercise discretion and show consideration for his place in the Elven hierarchy. He would not be immune to her charms—a princess of another people, a young woman who was barely more than a girl—but he would not risk mistaking the nature of her interest and looking foolish. For now, just piquing his interest was enough. She was planting seeds for the future, for a time when something more would be required.

  “Princess,” one of her escorts whispered.

  At the end of the hallway, the doors to the assembly were opening, and the king and his Ministers were filing out. She stood where she was, waiting. But when she saw the king come toward her, she went to meet him halfway, not bothering to hold back.

  “Princess Ajin,” he said with a small bow.

  He had used her first name—a small gesture that gave her hope. When he reached for her hand, she gave it to him. His fingers squeezed hers lightly. Her bow in response to his was much deeper and more profound. “King Gerrendren.”

  His smile was genuine. “The Ministers of the Elven High Council and I are in agreement. You shall have what you have asked for. Whatever you choose to do about any aggressive acts on the part of the Federation will not concern us, so long as the Skaar stay clear of the Westland and Elven interests in the other lands. You’ve indicated what you will do to keep your end of the bargain, and we will hold you to it.”

  “As you should, High King. And the Skaar will not disappoint you.”

  “The Federation are no friends to the Elves, Ajin. They never have been.” He bent a tad closer. “I think I may speak for the High Council when I assure you that if their aggression threatens you, we will take steps to back them away. I think we will make good neighbors, the Skaar and the Elven people.”

  She managed not to roll her eyes. Instead, she gripped his hands tightly. “This means so much. You have my eternal gratitude. I shall not forget your kindness.”

  He stepped closer. “I hope you mean that, Princess. I hope our alliance will bring you back to Arborlon soon—as my personal guest. I would like to know you better.”

  Ajin smiled, her eyes never leaving the king’s face. “As I would you. Until then, Ac’re dorst juin bei.”

  “Which means?”

  “In the Skaar tongue? It has no literal translation.”

  “An approximation, then?”

  Her smile was dazzling, and she managed to blush. “I think it best I keep it to myself until my return. I leave it to your imagination until then.”

  She backed away, signaling to her Skaar soldiers.

  “I shall have my Home Guards guide you back to the palace where you can retrieve your belongings,” the Elven king said.

  He turned from her with a final smile and went back up the hallway. When he had disappeared out the door of the assembly building, she looked at her soldiers. The older, Jen’Na, gave her a conspiratorial wink.

  “ ‘Aren’t I much too young for you’?” he translated. “Tender words, Princess.”

  “He will never learn their real translation.” She smiled. “Unless you tell him.”

  She indicated their readiness to depart to the Home Guards assigned to escort them and did not bother to note the look she was certain her soldiers were exchanging. In a group, the five of them walked back through the palace grounds, following the pathways leading to the royal quarters.

  When they reached their destination, they entered through the east doors and walked to the rooms where the Skaar had left
their weapons and cloaks. The Home Guards left them there, advising them to continue down the hallway until they were out of the palace. It was midday by now, and Ajin and her companions had flown here directly from their encampment. They were tired and hungry, but Ajin had made it plain beforehand that they would not be staying in the city any longer than they had to. Instead, they would fly east until they were beyond the borders of the Westland and make camp for the night on the Streleheim Plains. They would eat and rest then and resume their journey back to the rest of the advance force on the following day.

  She thanked the Elven Home Guards for their assistance; gathering up their weapons and cloaks, they went out the door and down the hallway as directed. Behind them, the Home Guards watched them go.

  Ajin walked slightly apart from her companions, lost in thought. There was a great deal to consider and not a lot of time in which to do so. The variables of her plan worried her, especially when it came to her father. He was growing steadily less dependent on her. She still had his ear, but she did not feel he was as strongly inclined to defer to her judgment. She worried that he no longer trusted her as he once had. On every one of her other campaigns, he had awaited her summons before acting. But this time, his precipitous departure for the Four Lands was a clear indication of his loss of faith. Whether this was due to the rumors of men like Sten’Or or his own misguided lack of faith, it was hard to know. But overall, his trust in her had eroded.

  She did not like to think what that meant. But she knew she would have to do something about it.

  Still in the lead, she rounded a corner in the hallway and watched a door open ahead of them. A familiar voice was speaking, a voice she could not mistake. She slowed, then stopped short in surprise.

  She was face-to-face with Dar Leah.

  TEN

  For a time that neither could have measured, Dar Leah and Ajin d’Amphere just stared at each other. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. “We just can’t seem to stay away from each other, can we?”