The Skaar Invasion

  After laying her on his bed and covering her with a blanket, he went back to close the trapdoor. A quick glance around when he poked his head up revealed Fade still sitting off to one side, watching. Flinc stared back at her a moment, a twinge of doubt tugging at him. Something wasn’t right. The big cat wasn’t sitting there because she enjoyed looking at Flinc or had decided to take up a watch on his abode.

  She was telling Flinc to be careful.

  The forest imp regarded the moor cat for a few moments longer, then pulled the trapdoor closed behind him and locked it.

  * * *

  —

  Tarsha Kaynin was sleeping deeply until she felt something nudge her consciousness, bringing her out of her comforting rest and back toward wakefulness. It was a familiar voice, a rough rumble she had heard and listened to before. There was no face, no presence, just the voice as she stirred beneath the covers of the bed on which she lay, pulling herself back into the present and whatever was waiting for her.

  It would be…best if you…find another shelter…quickly and…look for Dar Leah to protect…and stay away…but go at once to…

  Drisker Arc!

  All the rest of what he was saying was lost to her. It was as if a filter was separating and breaking apart his sentences, but she sensed fear and urgency in the words nevertheless.

  Her eyes opened in response, and to her surprise she knew right away where she was. No longer in her bedroom in Drisker’s cottage, but once again in the underground home of Flinc, sleeping in his bed. She forced herself to gather her wits and sit up. A quick look around confirmed that everything was just as she remembered it from before, although there was no sign of the forest imp.

  Then suddenly he popped up from behind a stack of crates off to one side, his wizened face scrunched up in a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

  “Tarsha of the beautiful eyes, welcome back to my home. You are my guest once more. I brought you here from Drisker’s cottage. It wasn’t easy, you know. I had to steal you away from the witch, who was keeping close watch over you. Did she hurt you?”

  The girl shook her head. “You stole me? How did you manage that?”

  “I am a clever fellow, that’s how. I waited until the witch was sleeping, caused a distraction to bring her out front, and while she was still muddleheaded packed you up and whisked you out the back door. Now you are safe!”

  She fixed him with her sharpest gaze. How much of this was true? With Flinc, it was difficult to say. “And what about my brother? Did you see him?”

  “I saw him. He was sleeping. I was so quiet he never even stirred while I was carrying you out. Is he really your brother? He was attacking you. He wanted to hurt you.”

  “He is my brother nevertheless. Tavo doesn’t understand things as well as he needs to. And he does things he shouldn’t.”

  “He is dangerous. He has powerful magic, and he used to it to hurt you. You mustn’t let him near you again.”

  She nodded, not wanting to talk about it further. “Thank you for bringing me here, but I have to leave right away. Clizia will come looking for me. She is a Druid, not a witch. If she finds me here, she might try to hurt you for helping me. I have to go before she finds out where I am.”

  Flinc shook his head vehemently. His gestures were frantic. “No, no, Tarsha, no! You must stay here where I can keep you safe. If you leave, they will find your trail and hunt you down. But they cannot find me. They cannot find my home. I was careful to leave no sign. They will find you gone, but they will not know it was me who took you. The witch will not find you here.”

  Tarsha swung her legs over the side of his bed. Her head was cotton-filled and her eyes still heavy with whatever had put her to sleep. The tea Clizia had given her, perhaps, with a drug slipped into the brew to make sure she could not function. But she felt the same way she had after Drisker had found her in Flinc’s underground abode and carried her out several weeks ago. She was reminded of it right away, and she found herself wondering if the forest imp had drugged her, as well.

  She stood up slowly, allowing herself a few moments to make sure her sense of balance was functioning. “Clizia Porse can find anyone anywhere, I think. I can’t stay, Flinc. And not just because of Clizia but because Drisker is in trouble and needs my help. He sent an apparition of himself to me while I was in his cottage. He managed to contact me and told me he was trapped in Paranor and trying to get out. But mostly he warned me about Clizia and what she might do to me.”

  “There you are, then! You have to stay here—and stay safe! You can’t just leave! Where would you go?”

  “I have to find the Blade, Dar Leah, and go with him to Paranor—or at least to where Paranor was—to help Drisker. I have to help him, Flinc. You should want this, too. He is your friend, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, yes.” The forest imp made an impatient gesture.

  “Would you want to come with me?”

  “No, I can’t leave here. This is my home. This forest is where I belong. My kind doesn’t wander.” He sounded miserable. “I thought maybe you belonged here, too. With me. You would be happy here, Tarsha. You would, really.”

  She smiled, running her hands through her hair as she considered how to respond. She saw now what he wanted. He was desperately lonely and had decided she could be the cure. But it was wishful thinking, entirely misguided.

  “My kind does wander,” she said finally. “And I have responsibilities that I cannot shirk. I must leave. I am sure you would make me happy if I could stay, but we have to be what we are. We can be friends, Flinc. I hope we can settle for that.”

  “It is too dangerous,” he tried again.

  “Yes, it is too dangerous, but so is staying here. Not just for me, but for you, as well. If something happened to you because of me, I would never forgive myself. Do you see?”

  Flinc gave her a reproving look. “Forest imps are quite capable of looking after themselves. We have not lived long lives by being incautious and unprepared. You are making a mistake by leaving, pretty Tarsha. If you will just stay another day or so, I think you will see…”

  She held up her hands to stop him there. “No, I am determined in this, Flinc. Drisker needs help, and if I can provide it, I must. Will you take me outside again and guide me to the edge of the forest so I can find my way?”

  He was about to reply when the trapdoor to his home exploded.

  * * *

  —

  When the trapdoor to Flinc’s home tore open, revealing Clizia and Tavo, it heaved upward momentarily before slamming back down again at a crooked angle that blocked entry once more. Tarsha instinctively backed away, trying to summon the wishsong to her defense, but she realized at once she couldn’t. The magic was beyond her. Whether because of her injuries or something in the tea Clizia had given her, she had no command of the wishsong whatsoever.

  But Flinc was already moving, grabbing her hand and pulling her after him. “This way! This way! Now!”

  She went with him, borne along by the urgency of his words and her own substantial fears. Deeper into his home they rushed, through a curtain and into another tunnel. Once within the darkness, Flinc yanked her to a stop.

  “Tarsha Kaynin, you must go alone now. Down this tunnel to its end and then out into the trees. Go find Dar Leah. He is somewhere nearby. I will stop those who are following. Go!”

  Numbly, she did as she was told, moving off into the darkness, her eyes adjusting to an almost total absence of light. All that saved her from having to find her way blindly were glowing bits of stone embedded in the tunnel walls that gave off just enough illumination to reveal the curve of the passageway. She did not look back, knowing what was about to happen. Flinc intended to face Clizia and Tavo alone. How he would stop them was impossible to imagine. She did not think the forest imp was a match for the Druid or her brother separately, let alone togethe
r.

  Without the wishsong’s magic, she could do nothing to help. Rationally, she knew this.

  But to just leave him…

  She was crying, but she brushed away the tears and hurried on.

  The tunnel was narrow and winding, and it took her a long time to reach its end. There she found stairs leading upward to another trapdoor and an exit out. The trapdoor opened easily—perhaps because she was opening it from within rather than without—so that she emerged into the forest once more. From there she began to run, heading toward the glimmer of the rising sun, away from what she believed to be the direction of Flinc’s underground home. She ran as fast as she could, not bothering to try to hide her passage, not worrying that any pursuers might try to track her, all of her concentration on simply escaping.

  She soon lost her way. Tree limbs crisscrossed overhead to create a thick canopy, and even though the sun had risen high enough that its brightness flooded the sky, it was no longer clear which way was east. She was still moving as fast as she could, but already she was beginning to tire. Her strength was not yet fully restored, and her stamina was quickly sapped. She felt she might not even be traveling in a straight line. She thought she heard a voice calling her name, but was frightened of who it might be and veered sharply toward the heavier shadows amid the larger of the forest’s ancient trees.

  She had begun to pick up her pace again—propelled onward mostly by fear—when abruptly she ran right into someone. Strong hands seized her arms, and she found herself looking up into the blue eyes of an Elf.

  “Tarsha.” He spoke her name softly and smiled. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

  * * *

  —

  A weary, resigned Flinc watched Tarsha Kaynin disappear into the dark, then turned back toward his underground home. Already he could hear the intruders smashing apart the trapdoor that blocked their way in. The locking mechanism within the frame was designed specifically to keep an enemy from just smashing through directly. If he had not long ago taken such a precaution, it would have been impossible for pretty Tarsha to escape at all. He regretted that she was lost to him, but he understood that it was the only choice left if he wanted to keep her unharmed. And he wanted that more than anything.

  Still, it was hard to accept what that meant. It was an acknowledgment of the reckoning he had been putting off for centuries, the conclusion of a life that, at times, had seemed to him as if it might never end. But he had not lived this long to pretend he did not understand that it was inevitable, that it was the necessary consequence of his decision to save the girl. It would have been wonderful if he had been able to persuade this rare and lovely creature to live with him, to be there to keep him company and share his lonely existence. But she had made it clear that this would not happen no matter what he did, and so now he had to choose whether to save her or give her over to her enemies.

  Which was really no choice at all.

  Now he must do what he could to slow them down before his inevitable demise. He found himself wishing that he could see Drisker Arc one last time. He had never shared such a close friendship with another human in all the years gone by.

  He arrived back inside his home just in time to see the witch and her young companion push their way through the debris that had barred their entry. The witch looked furious, the young man sullen and dangerous. Bad people who would try to do him harm if he gave them cause and opportunity.

  “Welcome,” he said, executing a small, precise bow.

  They looked at him as if he were insane. “Where is she?” the witch snapped.

  “Gone.” No need to pretend he didn’t know who she was talking about.

  “Gone? Gone where?” Her ancient face was wrinkled deep by lines of displeasure. “Speak up, creature!”

  Flinc drew himself up to his full height of four feet six inches. “I am a forest imp, and I was born to a species that found its beginnings in the time of Faerie. I am a rare and special creature, so treat me with respect!”

  The young man sneered. “What are you again? You look like a large rodent of some sort. Are you a mole or a badger?”

  “I am more than you will ever be,” Flinc answered. Shifting his gaze to the witch, he added, “As for the girl, shrig-hai obscenen, she is beyond your reach.”

  The old woman actually smiled. “No one is beyond my reach—especially not that girl. I have placed my mark on her and can find her again whenever I wish, no matter where you might have sent her. You may be very old, but you aren’t very wise.”

  Flinc shrugged. “Perhaps not, but I am very determined. Tarsha Kaynin has been sent to safety, and even though you may try to track her, you will not be able to. Your search ends here.”

  “If so,” the witch hissed, “then so does your life.”

  “Perhaps that is a trade worth making. My life is my own, to do with as I choose.”

  The witch took a step forward. “Not while you stand in my presence. Right now, your life belongs to me, and what becomes of it is not for you to decide. You overestimate your abilities, little imp.”

  “Or you do. Why not simply leave and go find sweet Tarsha if you think yourself so clever? Why even bother with me? Are you so afraid of me? Am I such a danger to your plans?”

  “Let me have him,” the young man said suddenly. “I will make him tell us what he knows! I will flay the skin off him if he refuses! I will strip him of his sanity!”

  “Not just yet,” the witch replied. “I want to spend some time with him myself. I want to know why he feels so confident when his instincts must surely tell him he has met his end. What say you to that, imp?”

  She was a creature of darkness, both without and within, and clearly capable of terrible things. Flinc could see it in her appearance, hear it in her words, and feel it in her very presence. He curled up inside himself, a protective response. He had thought that taunting her about finding Tarsha on her own might send her away, but the witch was not that sort. She was the kind that hunted and killed and felt no remorse in doing so. She believed in tying up loose ends and disposing of all potential problems that might otherwise return to haunt her later. She would not be leaving Flinc alive, no matter what else she might decide.

  He squared himself away, blocking her path. It was time. It was the moment he had expected, and he was ready for it.

  “You will do what you must, and I will do the same. But you will never have the part of me you want, witch.” He lifted his wizened face slightly, a cunning look on his face. “Come show me what you intend to do.”

  Enraged, she took a step toward him, hands formed into claws lifting to shred his face. But then she saw something in his eyes, the truth of what he intended, and threw herself backward into Tavo.

  “Get down!” she screamed at him.

  Then Flinc went rigid, his body stiffening, and with shocking suddenness thousands of barbs exploded from his flesh, rocketing in all directions at once. Most struck the stone of the walls and ceiling and floor of his home, but enough to matter embedded themselves deep inside the flesh of his enemies.

  When the air cleared of deadly missiles, Flinc was no more.

  * * *

  —

  Right away, Clizia could tell the barbs were poisoned. She could feel the poison’s fire burning through her. She struggled to her feet and summoned a negation spell to counter the effects, swaddling herself in a smoky haze that shrouded her entirely as it began an extraction of the poisoned barbs. Nearly frantic with pain and a numbing sensation that was working its way through her damaged body, she then conjured an antidote that coated her like a second skin from head to foot. She worked on herself first, then on Tavo.

  Although she thought more than once as she struggled to save him that it would be far easier if she just let him die.

  In the end, she was so exhausted that she collapsed in a heap, waitin
g to see if her efforts had been successful. Either she had acted quickly enough to save them both or they would die writhing in pain. She had been careless and foolish in allowing herself to get so close to that vile creature. She had been overconfident, and that was inexcusable. No matter the rage and frustration his persistence in resisting her engendered, she should have known better.

  She called Tavo’s name several times, but there was no answer.

  After long minutes—how many, she couldn’t have said—she felt a hint of strength returning to her body. She felt a marginal lessening of the pain; sensation was returning. She breathed long and deeply, promising herself that if she recovered she would not make a mistake like this again, swearing it on everything she held dear.

  She glanced over to where the forest imp had been standing when he exploded. Nothing recognizable left. A dark residue formed a wide stain on the floor. Particles of ash floated on the acrid air.

  She heard Tavo’s whisper of disbelief. “Why did he do that?”

  “He is a Faerie creature,” she answered. “They are not and never were like us. They can do things that are beyond us. He willed himself to die, and tried to take us with him.”

  His whisper twisted into a snarl of rage. “Now what do we do? You let this happen, old woman! What about Tarsha? How do we find her without him?”

  “Try listening to what I say. Your sister bears my mark and she is mine whenever I wish it. We will find her easily enough. This imp thought to send her to safety, but he has merely postponed the inevitable. Stop your whining!”

  Tavo moaned. “Something’s wrong with me. My head hurts. There’s something in my eye…”

  And then he screamed, a long dreadful wail of despair.